


Moon in Water

by Klitch



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Tengu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2018-12-02 08:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klitch/pseuds/Klitch
Summary: A run in with trouble on a dark night lands Yata on an island that shouldn’t exist, with the first human he’s ever seen in his life. Except that everything about Fushimi is different from what Yata’s heard humans should be...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Second (slight late) Sarumi Fest fic. I was hoping to have the whole thing finished for posting but it got longer than expected ;; It‘s nearly done though so hopefully updates should be regular.

“ _Hello? Is anybody here?"_

_The small cry echoed through the forest, bouncing hollowly off the thick tree trunks that surrounded him. Everything around Yata seemed alive, the stars a million hungry eyes above him, and he curled his wings up close against his body as he bit his lip, trying to swallow down the sobs that threatened to force their way out. He was almost a fledgling now, he was too old to cry._

_His mother had left him lying in a soft bush peppered with small pink flowers, at the foot of a hill with a view of the wide open sky above. ‘Stay put and don’t worry, I’ll be back soon,’ she'd said, and then she was gone. Something had flown after her, something large enough that it had blotted out the sky, and he remembered his mother telling him before they’d set flight that this section of the sky was dangerous, so close to the Second Strata._

_He’d waited as long as he could wait, playing with the flowers and trying to make up names for the stars. Then something had caught his eye — a soft blue flame, dancing in the moonlight, and Yata had followed it almost without thinking. It wasn’t until he’d tripped on a log and lost sight of the flame that he’d realized how deep into the nearby forest he’d wandered, entirely unsure of where he was or how to get out._

_What if his mother came back and he wasn’t there? Would she think he’d been eaten by something, and leave? Yata’s small fingers dug into the dirt, face scrunched up in thought. There was nothing but forest all around and every crack of a branch and rustle of a leaf felt like a monster coming to get him._

“ _What are you doing here?” The hushed voice made him jump, grabbing a stick and holding it out like a weapon as he turned._

“ _W-who goes there?” He tried to sound brave, he really did, but his voice came out like a squeak._

_A pair of blue eyes stared at him from the leafy depths of one of the bushes._

“ _I live here. You’re the intruder.” The voice was matter-of-fact, and the leaves rustled again._

“ _My mama left me here and…” Yata scrunched up his face, not wanting to admit he’d moved when he’d been told not to. He couldn’t help that he’d gotten bored of hiding, and besides, he hadn’t intended to go so far..._

“ _So she left you and she’s not coming back.” It wasn’t a question and Yata felt an immediate rush of anger, small wings puffing up as he stamped a foot and waved his stick._

“ _She is so! Mama is coming back!”_

“ _She is?”It sounded like genuine confusion._

“ _She is.” Yata nodded. “But…I dunno how to get out of the forest. What if she can’t find me?”_

“ _There’s a hill on the other side of the island. Get out of here before that guy comes.” There was something like a waver in the voice, and Yata cocked his head._

“’ _That guy’?”_

“ _Never mind. Go away.” The bushes rustled, as if the figure inside was about to leave, and Yata waved a hand._

“ _W-wait, wait! The hill…”_

“ _On the other side of the island. Like I said.”_

“ _But the forest…”_

“ _The forest isn’t hard to get out of.”_

“ _So…you can show me the way?” Yata’s face brightened into a smile and without a moment of hesitation he ducked into the bush, pushing aside branches and leaves, his own eyes meeting the blue ones fearlessly._

“ _I…” Hesitation, and Yata held out a hand._

“ _I’m Yata Misaki! I’m six years old.” He laughed. “Do you live in a bush?”_

“ _No.” A small huff as a figure crawled out to sit in front of Yata, trailing small green leaves. “But I…” Yata cocked his head, hand still held out and the smile still on his face, and the figure sighed. “All right. I can show you.”_

_A hand reached out and closed over his, moonlight shining off a bracelet set with a small glowing blue stone that dangled loosely from the thin wrist, and the grip was loose and hesitant._

“ _I’m…”_

\--

Yata’s body was bathed in soft red light as he flew home, the color staining his clothes and the pack of bright flowers on his back, mingling with the blue of the bracelet on his wrist.

It was rare for any of the flock to be out so late after sundown — tengu could find their way in any light, of course, but Homra tengu had always been creatures of the sun and Yata was no exception. His wings continued to beat in a steady rhythm, feathers flat against the wind, hampered only a bit by the pack he had slung over his left side. Carrying so much was difficult, especially considering the long flight he’d had today, but he was determined not to drop so much as a single one of the crimson flowers that were stuffed inside almost to the point of overflowing. The sky was darker than on a full moon night, with just a sliver of red moon visible in the sky, and there was a thin veil of mist covering the stars. Even so Yata still knew his way, trusting to his instincts and to the lamp he held in one hand. Totsuka had given it to him before he left Home Nest earlier that evening, saying it would be a help if Yata really intended to venture out so late. Up close it looked something like an old toy Yata had owned as a child, a small glowing ball on a string that moved up and down with the movement of Yata’s fingers. Unlike the toy, though, every time this one bobbed up and down small red flame butterflies would be released into the air, fluttering forward to light the way for a few minutes before fading away. The great black silhouette of Corialus, the Floating Continent of the Third Strata, could be seen even in the dark off to his left, the jagged rocks that made up the underside of the continent cutting through the sky, and Yata made certain to keep his distance. It was enough that he had to look out for any of the Debris, the name given to any number of small floating islands scattered all over this section of the Third Strata, which tended to move in uneven trajectories and were difficult to properly map — he knew where the majority of them were on this route, which was why he’d taken it, but new ones always seemed to show up from time to time and there was no way he was going to come flying into Home Nest late with his feathers bent and scattered from a collision and be teased by Eric again.

_Wait’ll those guys all see what I got, though, after they all said I was just gonna cause a mess again._ Yata couldn’t help the smile winding its way across his face. He could already imagine the looks on the faces of the others in the flock when he dumped his pack in front of them and they saw the bright red wide-brimmed flowered he’d managed to gather for Anna’s ceremony. All the members of the Homra flock had been busy preparing — a blood moon only came once every ten years, and though Anna was younger than Mikoto had been when he’d been named King there was no way they could wait for her to come of age before inducting her as his replacement. A blood moon was a good omen for tengu and any King inducted under its light when it waxed full would be blessed with grace and wisdom (”Our Anna’s already got such qualities,” he remembered Kusanagi saying, with a significant look at Mikoto that suggested Kusanagi considered their current King more in need of such a blessing than his replacement). Therefore as soon as they’d spotted the first sliver of red in the sky days ago there had been nothing but preparation after preparation, getting everything in place for the night of the full moon and Anna’s induction ceremony. Yata had worried at first, about doing all this without even asking Mikoto what he felt about giving up his position, but Kusanagi and Totsuka had both assured him that Mikoto was in full support of such a thing. “King can catch up on his rest at last,” Totsuka had said with a laugh, and Yata wasn’t entirely sure if he’d been joking or not.

Anna for her part had been her usual self, quiet and kind and observant, staring at everything with her wide red eyes, delicate white wings fluttering just so when anything caught her attention. Yata had promised to bring her the best offering and he’d meant it. He’d gotten a tip from a wandering crow — he’d always been on good terms with the birds — and had dared to fly down to the Second Strata where the air was heavier, spending most of the evening perched on a tiny bit of land floating between the thick dark clouds that made up most of the lower atmospheres, picking the rare red flowers that didn’t even grow anywhere in the Third Strata. He’d gathered flowers until his bag was full and then finally set off back towards Home Nest just as the moon had started to rise.

Yata’s wings flapped once as he rose slightly, catching a current of night wind, and he spread his wings to let himself glide for a bit. His body ached and his wings especially, unused to such a far flight, but tengu were masters of the wind and there was no way he was going to shame himself by spending the night on the continent rather than flying all the way back to High Peak Mountain where Homra made their nest. He’d told Anna he would be back before sunrise too, and he wasn’t going to worry her by being late, not when she had enough on her shoulders preparing for her induction ceremony.

“ _Homra’s changin’, sure enough,”_ Kusanagi’s words rang in his ear and Yata let go of the lamp again, the small ball of light dangling from the string for a moment before returning to his hand, birthing three small flame butterflies as it went. They fluttered in front of Yata’s face, wings trailing flame, and he stared at them without really seeing, mind far away.

Mikoto had been a Firebringer, marked with flames along his arm and granted powers of wind and heat. Under him Homra had always been a more military-minded flock, settling territory disputes with their fists rather than trickery or words. But Anna’s King mark had been for Divination, and even with Mikoto and his advisers to support her there was still no doubt that a flock led by a Diviner would have to change shape to match their King. And as much as he was excited for Anna’s sake, Yata couldn’t deny that the thought made him nervous.

“ _Big words. You think a Diviner’s flock has any need for a vanguard?”_

Yamaguchi’s words from their last fight echoed, and Yata’s fingers twitched, almost clenching into a fist. It wasn’t that he was _against_ Anna becoming King — she was practically a sister to him, when you got right down to it. He remembered full well the day Mikoto had saved her from the _things_ disguised as wizened old women who had intended to sacrifice the rare white tengu in exchange for who knew what kind of dark power. Yata had vowed to protect her then and he intended to hold to that, was fully ready to become a protector for her sake. But still…Homra, _Mikoto’s_ Homra, was his only home, the only place he’d ever belonged. They had taught him what it was to be a tengu, what that _really_ meant, the power and the pride, everything he’d been denied when he had been orphaned on the continent. He’d been living the life of a ground dweller until Mikoto had saved him and shown him how much more there was to the world, had shown him where he fit within it, and Yata had taken to Homra flock as easily as if he’d been part of it by bloodright, fighting his way up to become one of Mikoto’s most trusted warriors. But if Homra no longer had need of warriors, Yata couldn’t help but wonder where he was supposed to fit. He couldn’t see the things Anna could, couldn’t plot and plan like Kusanagi, he didn’t even have Totsuka’s talents for minor magic and scrounging up useful items. His skill was in the strength of his fists and the speed of his wings, not in farseeing and restraint.

And beyond that…Yata scowled, remembering Yamaguchi again. There had been some clear restlessness in the flock from the day Anna had been named as the next King — tengu Kingship was chosen by the gods via a mark of power placed on one’s body but it tended to pass through lineage. Anna was an outsider, the same as Yata, taken in by Homra but not born into the flock, not raised by the flock. Anna would be their first Diviner King in generations, and some members of the flock had been more vocal than others about their displeasure. Yata had already been scolded twice by Kusanagi for causing tensions with some of the dissenters — he’d only just stopped himself from caving Yamaguchi’s face in earlier that evening. He couldn’t understand how Kusanagi could be so calm about it, about the possibility of his own flock splintering and scattering.

_And if Homra breaks, where are you supposed to fit?_

Yata shook his head and abruptly smacked his cheeks with both palms, trying to dislodge the thoughts from his mind. _What the hell, thinking shit like that before Anna’s induction?_ She would be able to see it written on his face if not in his mind, and the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel bad for taking over Mikoto’s Kingship so soon, for being a cause of Homra’s possible destruction.

The wind shifted and Yata hurriedly flapped his wings again to regain stability. For a summer night there was a strange chill in the air, and the red crescent of the moon suddenly seemed more like a bloody smile, a scythe cutting through wheat that bled red beneath.

And then a great black silhouette cut into the red of the moon, and Yata’s far away thoughts immediately came rushing back to the here and now.

“Crap!” There was barely any warning as the thing in front of him gave a great screeching cry that seemed to penetrate down to his bones, sinuous body coiling in the air before arrowing straight towards him. Yata immediately whirled, wings flattening as he swooped into a dive, trying to gain speed even as he glanced back to see what had spotted him.

A face like a humanoid skull stared back at him, fathomless black holes where eyes should have been, and Yata knew if he’d been closer he would have been able to see small dots of light burning deep within those dark empty sockets. Behind the skull undulated a long blueish-black body, thick scales ridged with heavy spikes like a great flying snake. The wings were all bright colors, blue and orange like some of the colorful birds Yata had seen in the lower Strata, except these feathers were stained with old blood. He could just make out the moonlight glancing off sharp talons as the beast reached for him and Yata abruptly stopped and then in a single movement flew upwards, barely even sparing a glance at the thing behind him as it curled in on itself before moving to follow.

“What the hell is that thing doing here?” Yata grumbled to himself. “ _Itsumade are the souls of those who died of famine and plague, and the last thing you want to do is be the one who feeds ‘em, Yata,”_ Kusanagi had said once. Yata hadn’t listened to him much at the time — there wasn’t much in the way of famine and plague on High Peak and besides, what chance did a cursed thing like an itsumade stand against the entire flock of Homra?

The itsumade behind him opened its mouth again, giving a haunting cry like the creaking of a door, and its feathers seemed razor-bright in the light of the moon. Yata’s hands clenched on the strap of his pack again — the flowers were heavy, and slowing him down, but there was no way he was letting go of them either. Fuck if he was going to be the only tengu who returned home empty-handed, not after he’d been gone all evening gathering them up.

Yata spared one quick glance behind him, the itsumade still hot on his trail, and curled his wings in again as he lowered himself to fly parallel to a thick patch of mist. If he could use the clouds to confuse his position the itsumade might lose his scent and then he could get behind it and knock it out. He flapped his wings a few times, holding his position, and looked around for the dark silhouette.

It was beneath him; he could hear the sound of rattling scales and ruffling feathers as it tried to find his scent. Yata smirked to himself, pocketing Totsuka’s lamp for the moment and grabbing what looked like a long wooden spoon from where it was strapped to his back between his wings. He ran his fingers over the length of it, once, and it expanded in his hands until it he was holding a wooden staff. Yata clenched both hands around the bottom of the staff and then immediately dived down towards the shadow of the itsumade, roaring out a battle cry as he swung the staff towards its head, bracing himself for the impact of wood on bone.

An impact which never came, as the staff slashed uselessly through open air.

“Huh?” Yata stared blankly at the empty sky before him, wings fluttering as he turned himself in a full circle. There was no sign of the itsumade at all. “Did I lose it?”

Well, it wasn’t as satisfying as kicking its ass himself but Yata supposed it was just as well. He could at least go back to Home Nest now, get some sleep…

Then he heard a bone-chilling cry from beneath him and something flashed past, sending Yata reeling as his left wing was clipped. Feathers tumbled loose through the air and Yata found himself abruptly off balance, tumbling down into the mist and clouds as he desperately tried to right himself. The itsumade flashed past again, this time on his right side, and even as Yata swung his staff uselessly through the air he felt a spike of pain in his right wing, the appendage almost folding against his side as the itsumade flew past.

_Crap, crap, crap…_ Yata tumbled helplessly through the air, trying to catch a gust of wind beneath him. He was in a bad part of the sky, no islands to navigate to in order to right himself, and the deep gray clouds of the Second Strata growing closer by the second. The air was heavier down there and he was already off balance and tired out, if he fell through there it would be twice as hard to right himself. Even if the itsumade didn’t follow the possibility that he would fall until he slammed into some floating island or mountain was high.

There was a flash of blue scales and white bone as the itsumade flew at him, mouth open, and Yata swung the staff with all his might. The wood bounced harmlessly off the bone and Yata found himself tumbling down again, the world churning around him in flashes of blue and black —

— And then there was something beneath him, as if rising up out of a dream, something gray and hazy and Yata had the faintest impression of red wood and broken stone before he slammed hard into ice cold water.

Yata flailed about, wings already feeling heavy and lungs screaming. Tengu were creatures of wind and air, and while they could stand water it was still wholly against their natures. Yata had heard horror stories of tengu who fell into lakes and rivers and were dragged down by the weight of their own feathers. His arms flailed wildly as he swam desperately towards the light he could see above, chest feeling tight already. The pack on his back felt twice as heavy and Yata choked as water rushed into his lungs, wings pulling up tight against his body as he forced himself upwards.

A white hand grabbed onto his wrist and he was abruptly pulled up into the cool night air, body scraping against cold stone as he coughed and hacked the water from his lungs.

“W-what the hell?” Yata coughed again, feeling cool stone and warm grass against his fingers, body shaking slightly as he forced himself into a sitting position and gazed around at his surroundings.

He was sitting before a wide black pool, the water so clear he could see the stars reflected perfectly in its surface. There were a handful of stones set into the ground around the pool, all in faded red and blue colors that had clearly been worn away by time and neglect. There were more stones set into the ground at intervals all around his range of vision too, with grass and small plants overgrown between them, as well what looked to be the remnants of what had once been stone walls. Only the corners remained, along with thick wooden pillars that had fallen on their sides and cracked two. Squat stone statues dotted the entire area around the pool, features worn away by weather and age, and a wooden torii gate, red paint weathered and peeling, stood several feet in front of him. 

_A shrine..?_ Or what had once been one, anyway, long ago destroyed by who knew what. The air seemed eerily quiet and there was no sign at all of whoever had pulled him out of the water. Yata nervously touched a hand to the bracelet on his left wrist, feeling a little calmer when his fingers brushed against the glowing stone.

“Hey? Hello?” Yata called out as he got to his feet, shaking the water from his wings and his hair. His right wing was a bit sore but otherwise there looked to be no permanent damage. He took a few steps forward and then risked a small flight into the air, carefully testing the sturdiness of the torii gate before perching on it and staring out into the dark. He reached into his pocket, fumbling for the light, and four little red butterflies obligingly flew forward to illuminate the terrain in front of him. 

The space beneath him was dark, clear signs of a steep hill that began right beyond the gate. In the small light cast by the butterflies Yata could just make out what looked to be hundreds of old stone stairs, leading downward. Tentatively Yata flew forward, gliding his way down the hill until he finally reached the spot where the ground evened out again. There was a smaller gate there, fallen on its side, as well as more stone statues, also crumbling and clearly falling into disuse. A cracked stone path led forward towards a thick dark forest, the trees lit with an almost eerie light. It seemed somehow quieter at the foot of the hill than it had been at the peak, the only sound the rustling of Yata’s wings and leaves moving in the wind.

“Where am I?” Yata didn’t recall ever seeing this island before. He would need to fly higher to get a full view but from what he’d been able to make out it was pretty big for a normal floating island, probably B class Debris at least. Yata hadn’t memorized the maps of this area, sure, but he was certain he would have noticed it on his way to gather the flowers at least. Oddest of all there seemed to be no sign of anything living at all, not even ants toiling in the moonlight, and that more than anything made Yata feel nervous. _Something_ had grabbed his arm and pulled him from the water, he was certain of that.

“What if it was a gh-gh—a gho—” Yata shook his head quickly, fists clenching. Not that he was scared, of course. The great Yatagarasu of the Homra flock was definitely _not_ slowly getting terrified by the idea that a ghost had grabbed him by the arm and saved him from drowning in a pool located on a mysterious island that as far as he could tell had literally popped up overnight.

A cry from behind him made him whirl and Yata barely dived aside in time as the itsumade came flashing out from the darkness, jaws chattering as it lunged at him. Yata rolled as he hit the ground, letting the pack slide off his arm as he pulled his staff out again. He was better in the air than on land but at least this way the itsumade would be at disadvantage too. Yata immediately ran for the forest, the itsumade already hot on his heels. 

Yata didn’t even turn to see if it was following him, ducking under branches and over fallen logs. The trees grew thick and close and Yata knew his best chance lay in taking advantage of that — it would be hard for the much larger itsumade to follow him easily in a place like this.

“Ha! Try getting me now, idiot!” Yata turned, unable to resist the urge to rub his escape in the monster’s face, and immediately paled at the sound of snapping twigs and breaking branches. The itsumade was still following him, not at all encumbered by the forest as Yata had hoped it would be, instead simply cutting its way through as if the trees were no more than children's playthings, sharp branches breaking off uselessly against the rough scales of its underbelly.

“Over here, idiot.” A low voice made him turn, looking around wildly for the source of the sound. A white hand beckoned him from behind a tree and Yata pulled up short, torn between the monster on his heels and the unknown voice in front of him.

“A gh—gho—!”

A soft, impatient sigh, and then the voice spoke again.

“I’m not a ghost. But if you want to get eaten, leave me out of it.”

“S-shut up!” Yata immediately dived towards the sound of the voice, wings flat, hands tight on his staff just in case the ghost tried to attack him.

Someone roughly grabbed his arm and dragged him down into a bush, thorns pricking at his skin, and Yata thrashed about wildly.

“Hold still you moron, or we’ll both be eaten!”

The voice was cold and impatient and the only thing keeping Yata from replying was the cry of the itsumade as it dived towards them. Yata found himself pulled deeper into the bush again, staring upwards as the blue scaled stomach of the itsumade flashed past above his head. It gave another cry that was abruptly cut short, ending in a gurgle like a baby’s cry. Yata immediately sat up, tense as his eyes followed the source of the sound.

The itsumade had landed heavily on the grass, lying flat on its stomach in clearing just to the right of the bush where Yata was still hiding. It seemed to be thrashing about as if wounded and Yata couldn’t stop himself from taking a step forward, trying to see what was apparently attacking it. He could just make out something blue and shining settling over it, the light almost hypnotic, and Yata moved stiffly forward again.

A hand caught him and held him, and Yata shook his head to clear it as he realized what he was seeing: dozens of small blue lights were swarming over the itsumade, not appearing to burn it in any way but its thrashing was clearly dying down, as if all its energy was being sapped away.

“Onibi.” The voice beside him was cold and precise. “They’ll suck out all of its soul and leave the husk behind. If you go over there it will get you too.” A shrug. “It’s none of my business, though.”

“H-hey, wait!” Yata dragged his gaze away from the itsumade as he hurried after his savior. “I said wait a second!”

Yata reached out and grabbed for one thin white arm, pulling with all his might. The person in front of him whirled and Yata found himself staring into a pair of baleful blue eyes.

_A…human?_ Yata’s own eyes widened, barely able to believe what he was seeing. Humans supposedly lived in the lower strata, and Yata had only ever heard of them in stories. But the guy in front of him had to be, Yata was sure. He had been told that many of the denizens of the upper Strata had human-like appearances — tengu among them — but there was always something that differed, wings or scales or a simple feeling of the face being not quite _right_ that gave away the disguise. The figure in front of Yata, however, gave off no signs at all, looking almost…flat to Yata’s eyes, like he was only a painting of something that might have once been real.

“Don’t touch me!” The guy yanked his arm away, the look in his eyes so cold Yata could almost feel a shiver run up his spine. Dark bangs fell over one eye, contrasting sharply with the piercing blue eyes and pale white skin. He was really thin too, Yata couldn’t help but notice, and his clothes were tattered around the edges. 

“I wasn’t trying to attack you or anything,” Yata said, smiling shakily. If the guy really _was_ a human maybe he was just nervous being near a tengu like Yata? Tengu _were_ pretty impressive, after all…though the skinny guy had also just fed an itsumade to some kind of fireballs so maybe he was used to seeing unusual things. “A-anyway, where the hell is this? I’ve never seen this island. Are there any other humans here?”

“I’m not a human,” the skinny kid muttered, crossing his arms. “And I don’t see the point in talking about things with a loudmouth tengu. The itsumade’s gone, so you can leave now.”

“Listen you asshole, I’m trying to _thank you!_ ” Yata snapped. He could already almost _hear_ Kusanagi scolding him for losing his temper with the person who had just saved his life and Yata’s expression twisted in dissatisfaction — the stranger might have saved Yata’s life, sure, but his attitude was enough to piss anyone off. Yata didn’t get how someone who was apparently living alone on some tiny scrubby floating island that shouldn’t have even existed could have such a high and mighty air around him.

“I’m not interested in your gratitude.” The strange human was already walking away, back towards the crumbling shrine, and Yata followed after. As they emerged from the tree line Yata saw the blue eyes dart to the pack Yata had left on the ground, red flowers spilling out onto the grass. Yata reached for it and the guy scornfully kicked it in his direction. “Get out of here.”

“F-fine!” Yata growled, grabbing for his pack. Two flowers fell back onto the ground and Yata didn’t even bother picking them up. The stranger in front of him leaned against a stone statue, face turned away, but Yata had the distinct impression he was still being watched. “You can just stay here and get eaten by the—the whatever-the-hell those were in the forest!”

“Onibi,” the guy said shortly, his tone clipped and haughty. “Maybe you’re the _human,_ then, if you don’t even know what those are.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know what your stupid balls of light are?”

“They aren’t mine.” The skinny kid rolled his eyes. “Are all tengu idiots?”

“Who the hell are you calling an idiot? No one insults the Homra tengu tribe!”

“Homra?” The asshole stumbled a bit over the name, as if it was unfamiliar, before shrugging again. “Whatever. I told you, it’s no interest of mine.” He began climbing the steps towards the shrine, slowly, as if testing each one before stepping on it, and part of Yata wondered if a skinny guy like that could even manage the stamina to make it to the top.

“Whatever. I’m going home!” Yata spread his wings wide and couldn’t help the smirk on his face when he saw the guy turn to glance back at him. The guy turned away again almost immediately but Yata figured he had to have been at least a little impressed, right, of a tengu with the full span of his wings visible.

The wind was already blowing again and it only took a few beats of his wings for Yata to get himself back in the air, the island and its single resident growing smaller and smaller beneath him. The pool at the top of the shrine looked like a wide black bowl dotted with stars and Yata let the wind carry him away, back towards Home Nest.

_That jerk._ Yata dug around in his pockets for Totsuka’s lamp, hoping he hadn’t lost it in the mess with the itsumade. _Who the heck saves someone’s life and then acts like such an asshole about it?_

_Saves someone’s life…_ Yata bit his lip, eyes narrowing at the reminder. Thinking about it…that had been kinda weird, hadn’t it? If the guy was really that big a jerk, wouldn’t he have just let the itsumade chase after Yata and stay out of it himself? After all, Yata hadn’t even known he was there until he’d grabbed Yata’s arm and saved him from drowning in the pool.

_W-well, still, he didn’t have to be a dick about it,_ Yata thought stubbornly as he beat his wings again, trying to speed up his pace. He couldn’t deny that he was starting to feel a little fatigued now, with the adrenaline of the chase wearing off, and for a second he wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to have stayed on the island for just a bit and rested, maybe tried talking with the not-human again. _I didn’t even get his name…_ Yata shook his head again, not sure why he suddenly couldn’t stop thinking of the skinny guy and his piercing blue eyes and low, almost sullen voice.

His mind was still far away as High Peak came into view, Homra’s settlement easy to see on the far side of the mountain. He folded his wings in slightly as he landed in a clearing, dusting off his shoulders and double checking to make sure most of the flowers were still intact.

“Yata-chan!” Yata looked up at the sound of his name, face breaking out in a weary smile.

“Kusanagi-san!” Yata pulled his pack off his shoulders and held it out to the older tengu. Kusanagi was Mikoto’s second and also in charge of Anna’s ceremony, and from the weary lines on his face Yata could tell he wasn’t the only member of the flock who hadn’t gotten much sleep yet tonight. “Check out what I found in the lower strata!”

“Oh?” Kusanagi peered into the pack with an interested look before placing a hand on Yata’s shoulder. “Looks like a good haul. You’ve been out late, you know? You’re the last one back, Anna was startin’ to worry.”

“Anna was?” Yata felt a small pang of guilt for that and Kusanagi smiled, patting his shoulder again.

“It’s fine. She knows you can take care of yourself, yeah? But go see her before you bed down, just to ease her mind a bit.”

“Right. Night, Kusanagi-san!”

“Night, Yata-chan.” Kusanagi nodded in Yata’s direction as he took the pack from Yata’s hands, throwing it over his own shoulder. Kusanagi’s wings were a deep smoky gray tipped with red and the feathers were long and wide, the sign of a powerful tengu, and the red of the flowers Yata had brought stood out starkly against them. 

“Misaki.” A soft voice jostled him from his distracted thoughts and Yata looked up with a smile as a small female tengu emerged from the cave nearest to him. Anna was a white tengu, the only white tengu Yata had ever seen and from what he’d heard the only white tengu to be part of Homra in centuries. Yata had been with Homra for only a few months at that point but he recalled Mikoto returning to their roost holding a child in his arms, her long white hair falling over her shoulders and her red eyes calm and wise despite her young age. He’d been the first to walk up and introduce himself, tripping over the wings that he was still growing into, and Anna had looked at him and smiled.

She’d called him by his given name then too, even though he hadn’t told her what it was. But that was how Anna was, and no one in Homra would expect her to be any different.

“Shouldn’t you be resting, Anna?” Yata smiled at her as she walked over to him, the small red beaded bracelets around her wrists and ankles clinking together lightly with each step. “It’s late, and the ceremony’s gonna be soon.”

“Mmm.” Anna nodded. “I wanted to wait until everyone was home.”

“Ah…sorry, I was trying to get back earlier but I got delayed a little,” Yata said, feeling a pang of guilt. Anna put a hand over his, staring up at him with a thoughtful expression.

“Misaki found something interesting?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I found some red flowers for the ceremony! You’ll really like them, they’re bright and…” Yata trailed off as Anna shook her head.

“I saw it in my dream,” she said. “There was an island? With a crumbling shrine and the moon trapped in a pool of water. And a person there…”

“That jerk,” Yata mumbled under his breath and Anna cocked her head curiously.

“Jerk..?”

“N-nothing, nothing!” Yata waved his hands. “Anyway, it’s not like I’m gonna see that guy again. He just…well, I guess he kinda saved my life, so…”

“You want to thank him?” Anna asked, and Yata found himself nodding without even quite realizing it.

“Well — I mean, okay, he _was_ a jerk and all, but…what does that guy even eat, on an empty island? Does he sleep in the shrine? A human’s gonna just get eaten himself, I bet the only reason he’s still alive is because he’s all skin and bones. I just figured if I go that way tomorrow maybe I’ll drop him off something and that settles our debt. A Homra tengu shouldn’t owe his life to a guy like that, right?”

“Right.” Anna smiled gently and Yata had the distinct feeling that she was reacting to something besides his words. “Misaki should get some rest, for tomorrow.”

“I’m heading to the nest now. You coming along, Anna?” Yata held out a hand and Anna shook her head.

“I’m waiting for Mikoto.”

“Mikoto-san isn’t back yet?”

“He went to talk with Reisi about the charms for the ceremony,”

“That guy…” Yata couldn’t help but scowl at the mention of that prissy nine-tailed bastard who lived at the foot of the mountain and was always poking his sneaky nose into Homra’s business. “He better not be disrespecting Mikoto-san!”

“Mikoto is fine. Reisi likes him.” Anna said it with such conviction that Yata couldn’t bring himself to correct her, even if in this one case he had to doubt her insight just a little. “Good night, Misaki.”

“Good night, Anna.” Yata waved to her and spread his wings, flying up the side of the mountain towards where Homra had made their roost. Most of the tengu scattered about were already asleep, wings folded and eyes closed, and Yata flopped down gratefully onto the first bare patch of soft grass he could find.

He would do some more exploring tomorrow, maybe, see what else he could find for Anna’s ceremony. And if he happened to find the small floating island again with the crumbling abandoned shrine and the blue-eyed asshole who lived there and didn’t know how to accept a thank you, well, at least no one could say Homra didn’t settle their debts properly. Confident in his plans, Yata wrapped his wings around himself and closed his eyes, falling into a calm and restful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_Leaves rustled in the wind and Yata couldn't help but stare around curiously at anything and everything, eyes drawn by the small blue lights bobbing between the trees._

__

“ _Keep up.” The sharp voice from in front of him made him turn and he sped up his pace to match that of his guide. “If you get lost I’m not coming back for you.”_

“ _Why not?” Yata screwed his face up thoughtfully. “And I am keeping up!”_

“ _Forests are dangerous, you know.” The voice was low and cold. “There could be anything lurking here. Maybe I’m just taking you somewhere so I can eat you.”_

“ _But you’re helping me?” Yata cocked his head, wings flexing. “You’re weird.”_

“ _Tch. Of course I am.” Blue eyes looked down and Yata suddenly felt a bit bad for having said that._

“ _Do you live here alone?” Yata wondered. “I didn’t see anyone when I was walking...”_

“ _There are…” Another pause, not meeting Yata’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”_

“ _But…isn’t that lonely?” Yata said, feeling a lump in his throat. It was lonely, wasn’t it? If he didn’t have his mother he thought he would have been really, really lonely all of the time — tengu were usually in flocks, after all, and sometimes when he watched the birds flying through the clouds he wondered if he and his mother shouldn’t be in a group like that too._

“ _It’s fine. I’ve always been fine on my own.” His companion shrugged and Yata couldn’t help but feel upset by the answer._

“ _What if you get attacked by scary things?” Yata reached out to grab hold of one tattered sleeve. “It’s best to be in a flock, right? Mama says that it’s safest when there are lots of people!”_

“ _I’m not a bird.” A snort and Yata laughed._

“ _Yeah, you don’t have wings!” He smiled. “But I bet I could carry you.”_

“ _You?” Another snort. “I don’t think so, shrimp.”_

“ _I’m not a shrimp!” Maybe he was short for his age, sure, but Yata was certain he'd grow big eventually. “You’re not much bigger than me!”  
_

“ _But I am bigger.” There was the slightest upturn in the other’s expression, not quite a smile but the closest Yata had seen from him so far, and despite the arrogant words it made Yata smile widely back._

“ _Just wait! I bet I’ll be bigger than you someday!”_

“ _Will not.” A small huff, and Yata laughed._

“ _Will so!”_

“ _Will not.”_

—

“Yata.”  


Yata looked up sharply, small red petals spilling over onto his fingers. He was perched in a tree, wrapping vines around the branches and hanging flowers so that they dangled down into the clearing that was being prepared for Anna's ceremony. He'd been at it all day on his own, decorating, even though Kusanagi had told him to take a break hours ago. It just seemed like a way to keep himself busy doing something important, particularly as no one else had seemed interested in actually working together as a flock.

“Yamaguchi!” Yata sat up abruptly and nearly hit his head on one of the branches above him. He cursed quietly, ducking his head as he flew back down into the clearing. “Where the hell have you been, you asshole? Mikoto-san didn't give you guys permission to leave Home Nest!”

“You're gonna start going on about that again?” Yamaguchi crossed his arms, looking annoyed. Behind him there was a rustling of wings, several other members of the flock who had been absent since that morning standing watching the two of them. “Look, Yata, I'm trying to do you a favor here. You're wasting your time hanging flowers when you could be doing something useful.”

“I _was_ doing something useful!” Yata's eyes flashed, irritation running hot in his veins. “I told Kusanagi-san we should take the rest of the warriors to go after those guys from the other flock that were hanging out near the peak yesterday, if we don't let them know that this Homra's territory they could--”

“You really don't get it, do you, Yata?” Yamaguchi shook his head. “Homra used to be a name that meant something, you know? Even strangers wouldn't dare to come close to our nest back when Mikoto-san was our King. They're already looking down on us.”

“Which is why we need to--”

“Me and the guys went to talk to them,” Yamaguchi continued, nodding at the tengu huddling at his back. “They're from a flock that were living south of the floating continent, they ran into some rough times with the storm last season that brought up the cold winds from the lower Strata. Their King's said to have fought off an omudake all on his own. Since they need new blood, I figured might be good to open relations, you know?”

“Huh?” Yata's entire body froze for a moment and then he spread his wings to their full length, taking a step forward. “You bastard...you went to another flock? The hell! Did you forget we have a King?”

“ _Had_ a King,” Yamaguchi said, spreading his own black wings. “Why don't _you_ get it, Yata? Homra's as good as gone. A Diviner, as our new King? Look, I got nothing against Anna. But she's not Homra blood, and she wasn't meant to be Homra's King. Once Mikoto-san steps down we're going to be ransacked and done for. I'm just trying to get as many of our flock out of this safely as I can.”

“Don't give me that crap!” Yata's fists clenched and he could feel himself shaking. “Don't you have any pride as a member of Homra?”

“Pride?” Yamaguchi scoffed. “Like you'd know about that. You're not Homra blood either, Yata. Mikoto-san was kind enough to take you in, but don't think that makes you one of us. I wasn't even gonna ask you to come with us but some of the others thought you'd be a handy fighter in a pinch, and it's not like you'll have a place here much longer.”

“That's---that's not—” The arguments shriveled in his throat, plants starved for water, and Yata's fingers dug into his palms, trying to keep his temper in check. 

“How many times are you going to defend her, Yata?” Yamaguchi's smile was curved like a scythe, like a waning moon, and Yata could feel the bonfire just under his skin starting to burn hotter. “You're always going on and on about Homra's pride. How much do you think that's gonna be worth when another flock drives us off and sets fire to this mountain? You keep trying to act like we're all one happy flock, even though nobody else asked you to make our decisions for us. See how much good it does you when there's Diviner bones scattered on those stones and Homra's blood staining the mountain red.”

“You--!” The image flashed before him and Yata couldn't even stop it, a vision of home burned black and himself with nowhere to go, empty hands and empty memories, and he raised his fists as if knocking that stupid smile off of Yamaguchi's face could erase those words and those thoughts.

“Yata-chan!” There was a sharp gust of wind and Yata froze at the sound of Kusanagi's voice. He whirled to see the other tengu standing behind him, eyes sharp and expression disapproving.

“K-Kusanagi-san...” Yata swallowed hard. “Kusanagi-san, did you hear what he just said? They're--”

“There's no in-fightin' between members of the flock. You know that, Yata-chan.” There was a red flower in Kusanagi's hands and he was plucking the petals idly. “Go cool your head.”

“Me?” Yata couldn't believe what he was hearing. “I was--”

“I told you to cool down.” Kusanagi stepped past him as if Yata wasn't even there and Yata felt his stomach drop. “You're on sacred ground right now, until the ceremony's passed. This of all places, you know better than to start fights.”

“Y-yeah, but--” Kusanagi cut him off again with a sharp look.

“Yata-chan. Go calm down.” Kusanagi walked past Yamaguchi without even sparing him or his followers a look, and the superior smirk on Yamaguchi's face made Yata want to punch him again. “Or are you gonna drag Mikoto into this too?”

Yata's mouth opened and then closed again, and he looked down at his feet. Disputes between members of the flock eventually went to the King, and until the moon waxed full that was still Mikoto. Any trouble Yata caused would be laid at Mikoto's feet, and it would only make Homra look even more fragmented. With a curse Yata whirled on his heel, wings spreading as he leaped into the sky.

_Cool your head,_ Kusanagi had said, and Yata flew off towards the sunset.

–

The wind had grown colder as the sun went down and the moon rose, and Yata's wings felt as heavy as if his feathers had been replaced by icicles. He flew low along the bottom curve of the Third Strata, just able to make out the thicker clouds of the Second Strata below him as he moved slowly through the night sky, hands almost white on the strap of his pack, quietly nursing his wounded pride.

He'd originally intended to go pick more flowers, even though chill air in the Third Strata meant it would be even colder in the Second. He hadn't wanted to turn back either, even though his anger had cooled itself down somewhat just from the flight. In truth Yata wasn't really sure what he wanted to do, and as he'd flown idly in circles he'd found himself thinking ridiculous things, like how he could dive down to the coldest depths of the First Strata where none of the Homra tengu had ever been and see if he could spot any of the mythical humans down there on the ground.

Thinking of humans had immediately brought to mind his encounter from the previous night, and before he knew it he'd found himself following the same line of clouds, scanning the sky for the crescent-shaped island with the sloping hill and thick forest.

It wasn’t, Yata told himself, that he was interested in seeing that asshole human (or not-human, whatever) kid again. The guy had been nothing but a jerk to him, after all, and there was no reason to waste time looking for someone who clearly had no interest in talking with Yata any further. Yata hadn’t done a single thing to make the guy upset and yet he’d acted like an asshole for no good reason.

But that asshole _had_ saved his life, more or less, and the idea of being indebted to someone like that rankled. Even if they never saw each other again, it wouldn’t change the fact that Yata had been saved by him, and that Yata hadn’t given the guy anything at all in return. As a tengu and a member of Homra’s flock, it stung at his pride to leave such a debt unpaid.

“ _Pride? Like you'd know about that. You're not Homra blood either, Yata.”_

Yata clenched his fists and took a deep breath, steadying himself. And that was the other thing — if he couldn’t argue with his own flock at least there was no one around to object if he gave a certain not-human a piece of his mind.

The moon above him had grown a little larger, another quarter waxing to the full red moon that was drawing nearer. The light cast an almost eerie glow on the clouds, the night sky dancing with crimson shadows, and this time Yata flew fast but quiet, eyes peeled for anything that might try and grab him out of mid-air again.

Then he saw it, rising in front of him like a sun — a small island ringed by clouds, an ancient torii gate and a deep black pool on top of a hill.

Yata landed easily on the grass at the top of the hill, near the wide clear pool that he had fallen into on his first trip here. Now that he wasn’t busy flying for his life he was able to get a better look at his surroundings — it was clear that there had once been a shrine here, and he could still see pieces of what had probably been the walls ringed all around at the top of the hill. The tip of a submerged statute was just visible in the center of the pool and Yata wondered if this was the spot where worshipers in the old days would have thrown coins in and made wishes. There were more statues surrounding the pool and dotted all about the hilltop, all of them covered in moss and mold. Even when Yata tried to get a closer look it was difficult to see what they had once stood for, the features wiped away as if someone had rubbed them out with a cloth.

“Oi! Anyone here?” Yata raised his voice, looking around as he stepped towards the gate. There was no reply and Yata wondered if that guy was even here — eaten when he got too nasty with the wrong carnivore, maybe, or maybe he’d never even been here at all: just a ghost of one of the humans that might have once upon a time been a worshiper at the shrine.

_T-that’s not true, though, right?_ Yata felt a shiver down his spine and told himself that it didn’t have anything to do with the possibility that that guy could have been a ghost — and he wasn’t, anyway, because he’d definitely touched Yata’s arm and dragged him away from the itsumade, and saved him from drowning in the pool as well. Yata shook his head, irritated at his own weakness, and flew the short distance from the shrine to the bottom of the hill, landing neatly on the last stone step.

There were more stones laid into the grass in front of him like a walkway, and even a couple small wooden structures with torn hanafuda still hanging sadly down. It didn’t look as if some kind of disaster had happened here, though — more like something that had fallen into disuse, that had been abandoned years ago and was starting to crumble away. There was a staleness to the air too, now that he had a moment to breathe it in, one that almost reminded him of when he’d been down in the Second Strata. The air had always been more pure and clear the higher up in the Strata one flew but on this island it felt oddly thick and heavy, like a fading nightmare that left the dreamer choking as they woke.

“Hello?” Yata tried again as he approached the forest. There was something ancient and wild about this one too, different from the forest at the foot of Homra's mountain. Where that forest was lush and green – _alive,_ Yata found himself thinking – this one was somehow heavy and old, the trees with gnarled trunks and overgrown branches, weeds wrapped around them like snakes and flowers decaying on the vine. There were thorn bushes everywhere as well, dotted with small red flowers like bloodstains, and the grass beneath was soft with dead leaves and moss. As Yata took a tentative step forward he felt almost as if the branches were reaching out to drag him even deeper, the sky barely visible above, and it felt like even the air in this place was holding its breath. There was no sound at all in the forest except Yata's own footfalls and the rustle of his wings, neither birdsong nor the buzzing of cicadas echoing in the air.

Yata found himself walking deeper into the woods without even thinking about it, mind far away as he wondered if maybe the jerk had been some kind of tree spirit then, turned just as twisted as the trunk of his tree, maybe the only one still with energy enough to move while the rest slumbered eternally. It made Yata shiver just a little, twigs crunching under his feet as he walked. Here and there in the distance he could see those strange bluish orbs of flame — _onibi,_ the guy had said they were called — and he gave them a wide berth. They seemed harmless enough as long as he didn’t approach, but he’d seen what a swarm of them could do to something like the itsumade and he had no desire to be the next soul on the menu.

Something called from off to his right and Yata turned, startled at the sudden sound that had broken the quiet of the forest. He could see another soft blue flame somewhere in the trees, the leaves rattling as the blue head of a bird poked out. It looked something like one of the night herons Yata had seen once on the floating continent but there was something different about it that he couldn’t quite place, a weight to its walk and the movement of its eyes that gave him pause.

It took a slow step from the trees, wings rustling, and Yata wondered if he should try to talk with it. He’d always gotten along well with most birds, especially crows and ravens, but he’d never tried a heron before. Still, it was the first living thing he’d seen since he’d landed here, and that was better than nothing.

“Hey…” Yata held out a hand as he approached slowly, trying to look friendly. The bird turned to look at him, eyes dark like twin pools with the stars reflected inside, and it cocked its head slightly. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, all right?”

The bird didn’t move but it didn’t flee either, and Yata took another step towards it. 

“Move, you idiot!” A familiar voice broke the spell and suddenly the bird took flight, a hail of feathers accompanied by a throaty call, and Yata heard the sound of something snapping just as a weight barreled into him.

“W-wha…?” Yata landed roughly on the ground and sat up abruptly, turning back to look where he’d just been standing. All he could see for a moment were feathers and fallen leaves, and then a small beam of moonlight shone through the trees above and Yata spotted something else – a shining spider's web made of thin silver filigree that had somehow sprung up from nowhere, attached in three spots to the branches of the surrounding trees.

“Tch. It got away.” Cold blue eyes fixed him with a glare and Yata immediately jumped to his feet, indignant.

“W-what the hell was that about?”

“You just scared off my dinner.” The asshole rolled his eyes, walking towards the web as if he wasn't at all phased by the sight of it. “The aosagibi would have lasted me a few nights, until some idiot decided to try and make friends with it.”

“Hey, wait!” Yata reached for his arm and the guy immediately stepped out of range. “Look, I know humans probably can't see this kinda stuff but there's a web--”

“How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a human?” Another eye roll. “Of course I can see it, it's my trap. And you ruined it.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know it was there?” Yata demanded, and the guy clicked his tongue again.

“You're not. Intruders don't need to know anything about this place.” The emphasis on the word _intruders_ made it clear who he was talking about.

“Hey, listen, asshole, I was just —” Yata cut off, remembering why he’d come here in the first place. “Okay, okay, sorry or whatever! I was looking for you.”

“Why?” The blue eyes narrowed suspiciously and Yata sighed.

“Because you saved my life yesterday and I was _trying_ to fucking _thank you_ for it!” Yata crossed his arms. 

“By scaring away the meat I’ve been trying to get my hands on for days?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, I was trying to ask it where you were!” Yata’s hands scrambled for his pack. “Anyway, I brought some food for you so that makes us even, right?”

“I don’t want tengu food,” the asshole sniffed, as if Yata had offered him rocks and mud in place of the heron.

“Come on, it’s good for you! Anyway, you look like you’d get blown over by the smallest flap of my wings, you need something to eat.”

“Do not.” Immediate and stubborn, but two could play at that game and Yata didn’t intend to lose.

“Yeah you do. So at least try some, okay?” Yata reached into his pack and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in wide flat red leaves. “I’m a good cook, you know, Kamamoto’s always going on about my sandwiches. And you know it’s not every day a human gets to eat food made by Homra’s Yatagarasu!”

“ _Yatagarasu?”_ The guy scoffed. “Of course. Only a tengu would want to compare himself to a crow, and name himself after one.”

“It’s my title!” Yata insisted. Seriously, this guy was insistent on making everything sound stupid wasn’t he, even the name that Yata had proudly given himself and proclaimed to everyone Homra tangled with. “I picked it myself, since I'm good with crows and my name’s Yata M—” He immediately shut his mouth, but the guy had already caught the slip.

“Yata…what?” There was something oddly intent about the question.

“It’s—it’s not anything a human needs to know,” Yata muttered.

“I’m not a human.” The guy sighed and then smirked. “It’s _embarrassing,_ huh?”

“It is not!”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Oh yeah? Well, you tell me your name, asshole!”

“Why should I?” The guy shook his head. “You’re the one trespassing on my island.”

“What the hell, don’t you even know how to say ‘thanks’ when someone brings you something?” Yata shot back. “Anyway, I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours, all right?”

The guy stared at Yata as if trying to decide something before finally nodding.

“Fine. Fushimi.” 

“Fushimi...” Yata repeated and for a moment he had an odd sensation, as if part of him was reaching for something that had been torn away, fingers just brushing against the tattered edges of it before losing grip entirely. He shook his head and it was gone, and Yata held out a hand for Fushimi to shake — he’d read once, that shaking hands was a human thing. “See, that wasn't hard, was it? My name's Yata Misaki. But you can call me Homra’s Yatagarasu!”

“Misaki.” There was something odd in Fushimi’s tone, a look in his eyes as if seeing Yata for the first time, and Yata quickly looked away.

“D-don’t call me that.” It was a girl's name after all, or so he'd been told, in the bad days when he'd lived in the slums on the continent. Sometimes he'd wondered if his mom had just picked it because she'd always wanted a girl and hadn't wanted to bother looking for a new name when Yata had turned out to be a boy. He'd stopped using it entirely during his time on the continent, before Homra, and he still disliked using it now. None of the other male members of the flock had such a girly name and he hadn't wanted to look like a weakling, even if it was one of the last remnants of his mom that he had.

“You’re a real idiot, aren’t you.” Fushimi’s voice was sullen, as if Yata had disappointed him just by existing. “You’d give your full, real name to some stranger? Didn’t anyone ever tell you how stupid that is?”

“You…” Yata trailed off, an odd chill creeping down his spine. He hadn’t really thought about it — tengu used their full names for each other all the time, after all, within the flock. But he also remembered Anna telling him that the name the fox bastard had her use wasn’t quite his real one, and beyond that there was the vague feeling that once long long ago someone had warned him about it, not to give his full name to a stranger. Yata quickly shook off the feeling, annoyed. “Yeah, but it’s not like a human can do anything with that anyway. So stop calling me that!”

“I’ll call you what I want to call you, _Misaki.”_ Fushimi held out a hand. “Well? If you’re here to give me something in exchange for saving your life give it here and then go. I have to finish checking the rest of the traps.”

“Wait, so you set that all on your own?” Yata couldn’t help but feel a little amazed as he watched Fushimi walk over to the web, pressing a finger against of the shining strands. It made a sound like someone playing the strings of a koto and then collapsed upon itself, leaving four small cube-shaped stones lying in the grass. Yata stepped forward, curious despite himself as Fushimi pressed the largest cube down into the center of a small pile of dead leaves, in the same spot where Yata had been about to step before Fushimi had pushed him aside when he’d approached the aosagibi.   

“Do you see anyone else here?” Fushimi’s voice was flat and almost bored, as if setting traps in ancient forests was something he did every day — and in fact he might, Yata realized, if that was the only way he could get food. “It's magic, obviously.”

“Do you live by yourself here?” Yata wondered out loud. “Humans have flocks too, right?”

“I don't need anything like that,” Fushimi said. “If you’re going to stand around be useful and help me.” He held up the three remaining cubes and Yata could vaguely see small thin threads that attached the three to each other and to the cube in the center.

“R…right.” Yata found himself moving almost without realizing it, putting the food back in his pack as he held out his hands. “How does this work anyway? Humans don't have–” He snapped his mouth shut as Fushimi clicked his tongue again. 

“Maybe you're the human, if you don't recognize magic when you see it,” Fushimi said coldly and Yata glared even as Fushimi placed the cubes in his palms. “It's not mine. I took it from...” He scowled and then shrugged. “Stepping on the one in the middle causes the threads to release and creates the cage.”  


“I can recognize magic fine!” Yata snapped. He could smell it too, now that he was close — a little like ash and herbs, and he wondered where a guy all alone like Fushimi would have found something like this. “What am I supposed to do with these things?”

“Put them in the trees. That one, that one and the one there.” Fushimi pointed and Yata complied, spreading his wings as much as he could manage in the close quarters of the forest. “There's a charcoal mark on the right branches. If you put it in the wrong spot the gaps in the cage will be too large.”

“How do you know?” Yata settled onto the sturdiest branch he could find, almost immediately spotting a small mark right near the far end. 

“Because I tested it.” Fushimi crossed his arms, looking almost bored as Yata moved on to the next tree. “Once I saw how the cage looked the first time it wasn't hard to figure out the best placement.”

“R-right...” Yata nodded, trying to look like he knew what Fushimi was talking about. _Okay, he’s still a jerk, but…he’s kinda resourceful._ Yata had never seen a magic artifact of this kind and yet somehow a human-ish person like Fushimi had figured it out all on his own. Fushimi had trapped the itsumade too, now that Yata thought about it, leading it to where the onibi swarm was. “Hey, wait, you don't have wings, right? How do you reset the trap usually?”

“I can climb.” Fushimi gave Yata a look as if it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard.

“With those skinny arms? It must be hard being a human, huh,” Yata couldn't help but tease, smiling slightly at the irritated look on Fushimi's face.

“It must be harder being the idiot tengu who almost got caught in my trap,” Fushimi muttered. Yata felt like he should have been annoyed but somehow the comment didn't bother him at all – it seemed like that was just the way Fushimi was, complaining about everything, and Yata was no exception.

“Okay, done.” Yata flew back down to the ground, careful where he landed just in case there were more traps he wasn’t seeing. “Anyway, I fixed the trap, so let’s eat, all right?”

“I didn’t say I was taking your food,” Fushimi said, turning abruptly, and Yata scowled as he followed after. “I don’t eat tengu food.”

“I used different stuff,” Yata said, hurrying to match Fushimi’s pace. “I didn’t know what your kind ate so I figured I should make something different. What are you anyway?”

“None of your business,” Fushimi replied. “I told you, I don’t want your gratitude.”

“Homra doesn’t leave their debts unpaid,” Yata said, quoting something he’d heard Kusanagi say once. “You saved my ass last night. Just eat it and we’re even, all right?”

“'Even',” Fushimi said coldly. “If you think you owe me anything that’s in your head. It has nothing to do with me.”

“Yeah, well, if you _don’t_ eat I’m gonna come back every night until you do, how about that?” Yata taunted as they stepped out of the forest and back towards the foot of the hill. Fushimi sighed as he climbed up onto what might have once been an offering stone and sat down.

“Fine. Give it here,” Fushimi muttered, and Yata couldn’t stop the triumphant grin that crossed his face as he placed the bundle on the stone in front of Fushimi, unwrapping it to lay out the contents inside. Fushimi’s nose wrinkled immediately. “What the hell is _that?”_

“Eh? It’s a turnip, Totsuka-san found a bunch at the foot of the mountain.” Yata held up a slice in one hand. “It’s good for you. Here, try it.”

“No.” Fushimi immediately turned his face away, reminding Yata of some of Homra's fledglings. 

“You’re hungry, aren’t you? It’s not poisoned or anything.”

“I don’t like vegetables,” was the sullen reply, and Yata’s eyes widened.

“Vegetables are good for you, no wonder you’re such a skinny guy! Here, just eat it.”

“No.” Fushimi’s fists clenched, face still turned away.

“Come on, don’t act like a hatchling!” Yata smirked a bit and waved the turnip in front of Fushimi’s face. “Look, it’s a tasty flying turnip!”

“Tch.” Fushimi glared, clicking his tongue. “Don’t you have any meat?”

“Meat?” Yata hid a smile; at least Fushimi asking meant he was a little intrigued by the food. “I’ve got some roast boar?”

“I’ll take that.” Fushimi held out a hand and Yata gave him the meat. Fushimi took a wary taste, keeping half an eye on Yata as if testing his reaction.

“You can’t just eat meat, you need healthy nutrients!”

“I’ll eat what I want,” Fushimi stated, taking another bite. 

“You’re gonna get sick, you know,” Yata muttered. “And then what’ll you do, huh? There’s no one else here, you’ll be in trouble!”

“I can handle myself,” Fushimi said coldly, discarding the red leaf wrappings on the ground as he licked the last of the meat drippings from his fingers. “I don’t need anyone’s help. I’m not a midget crow like you, who can’t even handle an itsumade.”

“I was handling it fine!” Yata snapped before shaking his head, trying to get himself back into control. He’d come here to thank Fushimi, not yell at him. “A-anyway, there’s more food. You better eat it, you stupid human, or you really will get sick and I’m not gonna take care of you!”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Fushimi said dully. “And how many times do I have to say it to get it through your thick skull? I’m not human.”

“So stop being all stupid and cryptic and tell me what you are, or I'm calling you a human.” Yata placed the rest of the food onto the offering stone, jumping into the air. “And whatever the hell you are you'll still starve if you don't eat, right?”

“I don’t need your charity,” Fushimi sneered.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so great you can handle everything yourself. Even though you look like a sparrow could snap you in two.” Yata snorted. “Eat it all, and I’m gonna bring more tomorrow too! You’re not getting rid of me until I’ve fixed your shitty diet.”

Fushimi looked up at him sharply then and Yata found himself caught by that gaze for a moment, trapped by deep blue eyes and another stirring of memory that flew past too quickly for him to grasp it. He wasn't even sure why he'd offered to come back. He just...

Just wanted to, and Yata couldn't even say why.

Yata gave another hard flap of his wings, breaking away from Fushimi's gaze as he took off into the night sky, not even bothering to wait for Fushimi’s reply. He could feel the glare at his back though, heavier than the pack he wore, and he soared upward until the clouds below hid Fushimi's island completely from view.

_I just haven't paid my debt off yet, that's all,_ Yata told himself, trying to shake off the itch in his mind. The sky above was starting to grow lighter, sunrise coming on, and Yata was surprised to realize how long he'd spent on the island. He wondered if his absence had even been noted by the rest of Homra, if anyone had bothered to come after him.

Somehow the idea of going back to Home Nest made him feel on edge, a lingering feeling of dread that he couldn't ever recall feeling when it came to Homra. Yata swallowed hard, glancing back down towards where he knew the island was. It was odd, how easily he'd fallen into a rhythm with Fushimi, so much so that he'd even forgotten for a moment the reason why he'd gone to that island today in the first place. Yata didn’t know what it was, couldn’t even explain it to himself, and thinking about it too hard felt like chasing a piece of ribbon through a windstorm, his fingers always just a few centimeters away but unable to grasp onto it. It had just felt… _natural,_ somehow, talking to Fushimi, and part of Yata was already excited about the possibility of coming back here and seeing him again.

“I’ll show that stupid human,” Yata muttered quietly, forcing himself to turn and head for home. “I’ll make him the best, healthiest dish ever and then he’ll be _begging_ to thank me for it!”

—

Reddish-black feathers floated down to the ground as the tengu leapt into the air, and Fushimi didn’t even watch him go. It wasn’t like he’d _asked_ for that guy to come and bother him. He shouldn’t have even bothered saving the intruder for that matter — it wasn’t any of Fushimi’s business, what landed on his island and got eaten.

“ _Yata…Misaki.”_ The name echoed in his head and Fushimi clicked his tongue, annoyed at his own expectations, at the way his heart had jumped all of its own volition. He supposed he should have guessed it before, the moment he'd pulled the tengu from the waters of the pool, that it wasn't just coincidence.

The sky was lightening and the red moon fading even more in the sky as Fushimi got to his feet, preparing to begin the long ascent up the temple steps. He barely spared a single glance for the small bundles of food Yata had left, instead reaching down and picking up one of feathers that had been left behind on the grass, turning it over in his hands as he walked.

Though the sky was growing lighter the grass was already bent and bowed as if from storm winds, and the torii gate at the top of the hill looked almost ominous, a single point standing stark against a burning sky. Fushimi ducked his head as he walked below it, as if by doing so he could keep the gods from looking upon him.

He released Yata’s feather into the water of the dark black pool, the reflection of the pale moon and reddening sky rippling only slightly as the feather sank, and Fushimi waited on the sun to rise.


	3. Chapter 3

_There was a blue light hovering somewhere in the distance, soft and blue like a star someone had pulled down from the sky, and Yata couldn't help but reach for it._

__

“ _Pretty…”_

“ _Don’t!” Another hand on his stopped him, wide blue eyes staring seriously back._

“ _Why not?”_

“ _It’ll eat your soul.” His companion kicked at a pebble and Yata couldn’t help but notice sandals that were even more threadbare than his own. “They like to lead travelers astray in the woods and then attack in a group. Didn’t I tell you forests are dangerous?”_

“ _I’ve never been in a forest before! I live on a cliff with Mama.” Yata laughed a little sheepishly. “Ah, but — you really know a lot about the forest, right? That’s amazing!”_

“ _It’s…not so amazing.” The blue eyes trembled a little, looking down as if not sure how to react. Which was weird again, Yata thought — it was a compliment, right? Mama had always told Yata that being honest was one of his best qualities._

“ _It is! You’re amazing!” Yata reached out and grabbed hold of the hands that were just a little bigger than his own, swinging their arms together. “You know all kinds of things about the forest, and you’re leading me through, like—like a hero!”_

_He smiled, feeling another rush of relief — it really did feel safe, being with someone like this — and the other boy looked down again. In the dark it was hard to tell, but Yata thought there might be something like a flush in his cheeks._

“ _Amazing…” The word was said quietly, reverently, and then a fleeting smile crossed the normally sullen face, like a swallow hovering over a lake._

“ _The most amazing guy I’ve ever met,” Yata said firmly, and there was a soft almost scornful laugh._

“ _You must not have met many people, Misaki.”_

“ _Ah—don’t call me by my first name.” Yata looked down, face feeling a little hot. It was an embarrassing name, after all. His mother always said his name was a strong name, but anyone he’d ever told it to had laughed._

“ _Why not?” The eyes widened suddenly. “You shouldn’t have told it to me. That guy could…”_

“ _That guy?” His companion kept mentioning that person, and Yata still didn’t know who they were. The boy beside him just shook his head in reply though, grabbing Yata’s hand again and holding it tight as he led Yata through the forest._

“ _Don’t worry about it. Just…don’t give your name to anyone here but me, all right?”_

_Yata wasn’t sure why that was so important all of a sudden, but he nodded anyway._

\--

“What is this, _Misaki?_ I’m not eating it.”

“It’s a fucking _fruit,_ Fushimi, you like those!”

Yata sat side by side with Fushimi on top of an old mossy log in the center of the dead forest, Fushimi looking balefully at the wrapped food Yata had just given him. Yata had been bringing him food for three days now and so far Fushimi hadn't managed to become any less fussy about it.

The Homra flock was in a constant state of movement now, with the moon ceremony so close at hand. The first few days of the red moon had been almost calm compared to this, little things like finding flowers for decorations reduced to merely an afterthought. He'd barely seen Mikoto or Kusanagi at all in the last couple of days beyond a quick flash of departing wings. Even Totsuka, normally always around when Yata needed someone to lend him an ear, was off on his own errands. Anna herself had been absent often as well, off with Kusanagi and some of the elders preparing for her part in the ceremony. The rest of the flock had become increasingly scattered, members flying off at all times of the day for reasons they didn't even bother to share, and Yata had gotten more than a few glares lately for daring to ask. Yamaguchi and his faction were more often gone than not, though Yamaguchi himself had been giving Yata a wide berth ever since their last conversation.

Yata shifted in his seat, moldy bark scraping against his clothes as he watched Fushimi glare at the slice of pineapple in his hands. They had spent the last few nights repeating these same motions, Yata trying to feed him and Fushimi being irritating and stubborn and refusing to answer any question Yata asked him about himself or the island. It wasn't as if he'd become any better company either – Fushimi was still as acid tongued as the first day Yata had met him, and there was really no reason for Yata to continue to come see him night after night like this.

It was just...Homra felt stifling lately, as if his wings had been clipped and bound, and it made Yata restless. With everyone so focused on the ceremony and who knew what else, he'd found himself making off every night for the only the place he could think of where he could be alone without _actually_ being alone.

It wasn't like he was trying to use Fushimi as some kind of substitute for the flock, of course, there was no way an asshole like Fushimi could ever take the place of Mikoto. But Fushimi was kinda alone too, as far as Yata could tell. At first he’d held some hope that there had to be _someone_ on the island besides Fushimi, some other living being who stayed with him and kept him company when Yata wasn't around. But he hadn’t seen anyone at all, no matter how far he flew over the length of the island — only Fushimi, sitting in the shade of a fallen statue or leaning against a tree in the forest, setting traps for the things that lived there. Yata had tried asking once if maybe all the other members of Fushimi's flock were asleep (Fushimi insisted Yata only come visit at night because he slept during the day, apparently whatever the fuck Fushimi was it was something nocturnal) but the only answer he'd gotten in response was an eye roll and a tongue click.

Fushimi continued to insist that he wasn’t a human and Yata was almost beginning to believe him; after all, according to legend humans lived in family groups, and Fushimi didn’t have one. Unless he really was the only human left and all the others had fled the island somehow, leaving just one grumpy skinny asshole behind who was probably too stubborn to go with them. 

“I’ve never seen this fruit before.” Fushimi was looking at the fruit as if it might attack him and Yata sighed extravagantly, taking it from his hands and biting into it.

“See? It’s good. The King traded that guy who lives at the foot of the mountain for it.”

“Tch. ‘King,’ ‘King.’ Is that all tengu can talk about, their stupid flocks?” Fushimi rolled his eyes, annoyed, but even so he took the pineapple from Yata’s hands and carefully tasted a corner of it, holding the end between two fingers as if he wasn't entirely certain that it was really food and not some kind of torture device. “I guess that’s to be expected of stupid birds, huh, _Misaki?”_

“Shut up! And stop calling me that.” Yata crossed his arms, wings flexing just a little in irritation. “I told you, Homra's King is amazing! He found me and took me in when I was by myself — and I bet he’d find your flock for you too, if you weren’t a stubborn asshole who refuses to leave this weird island.”

“Did I say I wanted to leave?” Fushimi grumbled. “You’re being irritating today, Misaki. If that’s all you’re going to talk about then go away.”

Fushimi always seemed to get like this when they talked about flocks, Yata had noticed, but he hadn’t pressed the last few times. There was something in the sudden uncomfortable hunch of Fushimi’s shoulders that made him want to push a little more this time though, go just a bit further.

“Hey, Fushimi…are you really the only member of your flock?”

“People who aren’t tengu don’t call them ‘flocks,’ Misaki.” Fushimi tossed another piece of pineapple into his mouth. “Do I look like a bird to you?”

“O-okay, then…tribe? Herd? How the fuck am I supposed to know what Fushimis call it!”

“…Fushimis’?” Fushimi repeated, a strangely wary look on his face.

“Well, you keep saying that you’re not a human, right?” Yata said. “But you’re not a tengu and you sure don’t look like a god or anything like that. So you’re a Fushimi.”

“Are you always this much of an idiot?” Fushimi’s words were rude, as usual, but there was something about his expression that wasn’t quite as cold as Yata thought it might have been before. The air hadn't warmed at all these last few nights but Fushimi was melting just a little, inch by inch. 

“If you’d stop acting so fucking mysterious about it I wouldn’t have to guess,” Yata muttered.

“I’m not acting mysterious,” Fushimi said. “Some of us just don’t feel the need to give away every one of our secrets, _Misaki.”_

“Are you ever gonna stop using that name?”

“Why not? You're the idiot who gave it out.” Fushimi took another bite of the pineapple. 

“It's just my name, who the hell cares? We use each other's names in the flock all the time!”

“Because you're tengu. Tengu are idiots who can't do anything with a name even if they know it.” Fushimi finished the pineapple and then stared down at the empty leaf wrappings in his hands. “Why are you still here, anyway?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” There was a strange cast to Fushimi's face that made Yata frown. “I'm the only thing keeping you from starving.”

“I can handle myself,” Fushimi said sharply. He was staring right at Yata now, blue eyes hung with frost. “Do you think I'm your _friend,_ Misaki? Don't make me laugh.”

“I didn't say I wanted to be your friend, asshole,” Yata snapped. Fushimi's face remained impassive but there was something almost like a flinch in his eyes, and Yata found his voice softening slightly. “I mean...well, I'm a tengu and you're a...whatever. Maybe we're natural enemies or something, it's not like I'm an idiot who doesn't know that.”

“If we're natural enemies you should get the hell out of here and leave me alone before I eat you, Misaki.” Fushimi took another piece of pineapple and chewed on it almost sullenly.

“You'd probably refuse to eat me anyway, you're so fucking picky,” Yata shot back. “Were you even eating anything at all before I got here? That's what flocks are for, you know, to help you when you don't have anyone else around.”

“I don't need anyone else,” Fushimi said darkly. “And I'm not part of your flock, so you don't need to help me. I didn't ask you to.”

“ _Maybe_ I just decided that someone should.” Yata shook his head. “You know, maybe you'd be less pale too if you stood in the sun sometime, if you stopped telling me to come at night all the time I bet I could help you off the island and then--”

“Shut _up,_ Misaki.” Fushimi stood abruptly, leaving the food behind as he began to walk away. Yata followed despite Fushimi's obvious irritation with him, half flying and half running to keep up.

“I was just making a suggestion, asshole!” Yata flapped his wings and landed neatly in Fushimi's path. “And would you stop using that name already?”

“You're the idiot who gave it to me,” Fushimi said darkly, and there was an anger in his voice that Yata couldn't quite figure out the source of. “You just give out your name to anyone, even though you should know better, don't you? Do you know what someone can do with that Misaki? Tengu really are stupid.”

“Don't say shit like that about tengu!” Yata snapped. “Just because a land-dweller like you can't understand the rulers of the sky and has some kind of issue with _sunshine_ \--”

“I didn't say I wanted to understand you.” Fushimi increased his pace, heading towards the old temple, and Yata followed after.

“Well maybe if you _tried_ then I could understand you too and figure out why you're such a jerk all the time,” Yata said. 

“I don't need you to understand me either,” Fushimi said dismissively. He was glancing up at the sky, which had lightened just slightly in anticipation of the dawn. “I don't need anything at all from you. Go away.”

“I'm not going away, come on, we were getting along for a minute there weren't we--” Yata reached for Fushimi's arm, one hand closing around Fushimi's thin wrist. The bracelet on his hand glowed softly and Fushimi stared at it for a long moment, expression twisting as his eyes glanced up towards the sky. 

“I don't need to get along with you either.” Fushimi wrenched his hand roughly from Yata's grip and took a step back. “You don't understand anything at all, do you Misaki? I'll show you.” Fushimi raised one hand, the fingers bent crooked as if he was plucking a berry from a tree. “First character, _Mi. ‘_ Beauty.’ One flower grows, in the side of a mountain.” There was something lulling in his voice and Yata found himself leaning forward despite himself, body feeling oddly heavy. Fushimi’s fingers twitched closed and then open again, as if he was picking something out of Yata's expelled breath, pulling it from his lips and bringing it close before Yata could even realize what had been taken. “Second character. _Shou —_ read _saki._ ‘Blossom.’ The flower was red. She picked it in the middle of summer, the leaves dry from lack of rain.”

“F-Fushimi…” Yata’s tongue felt thick in his mouth and his entire body seemed to have gone slow, limbs moving stiff, wings like a weight on his back. Fushimi looked at him with that sharp cold gaze, blue eyes deep and unfathomable, and held out his open palm.

“I wrap the syllables in a loop around one finger, a continuous string. The second half — eight fields side by side, seem from above by an ancient crow. No one remembers that anymore, but the name does.” There was something hazy in Fushimi’s palm, and Yata’s body lurched forward without his being aware of it. Fushimi stared at him for a long moment and then suddenly threw both hands wide, almost contemptuously, as if letting something go.

Immediately the spell over Yata seemed to break and he shook his entire body as if waking from a long sleep, wings shifting and stretching so wide that he almost knocked Fushimi over.

“W-what the hell was that?” Yata realized that he wasn’t the only one breathing hard. Fushimi seemed to have awoken from his own trance and there was something almost lost in his gaze that was quickly covered by a veil of defensiveness.

“I took your name,” Fushimi said, crossing his arms. “I told you, that’s why you don’t give it out to anyone. Your own flock might be safe but only a fool gives it to a stranger. If I hadn’t given it back you wouldn’t have moved again.” He turned on his heel again, shoulders slightly hunched as he started to walk away. “So get out of here, before I decide to keep it next time.”

_Keep it...?_ Yata's heart was still beating fast and it felt like something was crawling beneath his skin, as though something was tugging at his bones.

“Fushimi…” Yata could barely form the word, and he thought his body might have been shivering as if he'd been hit by a sudden cold.

“It was a flower in a rock,” Fushimi said, not turning as he stepped out from under the forest canopy. His voice was oddly hoarse and clipped, as if trying to spit the words out all in a rush. “That's what she named you after. There was no rain, but it was beautiful anyway. So she named you that.” He seemed to almost be talking to himself, fingers twitching. “A little wish. How stupid.”

Yata felt the lightest _pull_ from something he couldn't see and his heart beat even faster, his feet moving almost on their own. It was as if there was suddenly something about Fushimi that mesmerized him even as it terrified him, and Yata couldn't stop wanting to reach for him.

Fushimi stopped then, glanced back at him, and there was a wavering in his eyes that gave Yata pause – Fushimi's expression was twisted and cold, but Yata could swear he saw _fear_ somewhere deep in the depths of those blue eyes.

“I said, _go away_.” Fushimi seemed angry but Yata had the oddest feeling that the emotion wasn't directed towards him at all. Despite the beating of his heart Yata suddenly wanted to stay, wanted to ask all the questions hovering on the tip of his tongue, but his wings seemed to spread by themselves and he didn't even realize he'd taken flight until Fushimi was nothing more than a small speck on the ground below.

“ _I took your name.”_ It was an echo in his mind, hanging there like snow on a branch, but somehow the further he got from the island the warmer those words seemed to become. Fushimi's face was still clear in his mind, those eyes trembling just slightly with something like fright and thin fingers plucking invisible syllables from the air, and Yata could already feel his fear being replaced by curiosity instead.

Tengu weren't great with magic and Yata was worse at it than most, but Totsuka would talk about it with him sometimes. There was power in ordinary things, Totsuka always said – he'd never mentioned any kind of name magic that Yata could recall, but sometimes when they sat together Totsuka would idly pluck the moon out of the sky and put it in a pot, or turn the stars into butterflies and make them fly away. The moon was still there in the sky, of course, and all the stars, but Yata could never figure out how they got back there after Totsuka took them away.

It had been different with Fushimi, though. Yata found himself fiddling idly with the bracelet on his wrist as he landed at the foot of the mountain. There were only a few members of Homra awake and idling about, and none of them even so much as greeted him as Yata made his way up towards the nesting area.

_“It was a flower in a rock. That's what she named you after.”_ Fushimi's voice again, and by now  it didn't feel frightening at all, not when he was back in his nest unharmed, the crawling feeling in his skin long disappeared. It seemed even a bit stupid – he'd flown away from _Fushimi_ of all people, just because of some kind of weird trick. 

“I wonder what he meant by 'she named me,'” Yata murmured quietly to himself. “Mom?” His mother had never told him where his name had come from, and he'd never gotten a chance to ask her before she'd died. He'd always been a little ashamed of his name – it was a girl's name, and weak, and not at all the kind of strong name a tengu should have. When he'd joined Homra he had made it clear that he would only answer to Yata or to his personally chosen nickname of Yatagarasu, and no one but Anna ever called him 'Misaki.'

No one but Anna, and Fushimi. Fushimi, who must have taken Yata's name from the very beginning but had only just taken advantage of that, and then only to make Yata leave in order to break off an argument.

“That guy...” Yata scowled. What was he supposed to think, anyway? Fushimi could have just said it right out the first time, why Yata shouldn't be giving out his name. If he thought a little weird magic was enough to keep Yata away he was wrong, that was certain.

_“My name is...”_ The bracelet on his wrist glowed and for a second Yata thought he heard something on the wind, an echo of memory, alighting on him for just a moment like butterfly before flying away again. The sun was already visible on the horizon, and Yata settled down to sleep.

He'd just ask Fushimi what he'd meant tomorrow night. Homra's Yatagarasu didn't run away after all, and especially not from stupid humans. And besides, there was no undoing what he'd already done. So what could be the harm, really, in going back to talk to Fushimi again. 

It wasn't as if Homra had any use for him right now anyway, and Yata gave a soft sigh as he rolled over and tried to get some sleep.

–

The night sky was heavy with clouds as Yata slowly alighted onto the top of the ancient torii gate. The red moon cast an eerie glow on the grass below and there was no sign of Fushimi. Even so Yata spread his wings and took flight towards the forest, where he knew Fushimi had to be.

There was that cold feeling in his bones again too, stiff somehow, and Yata felt as if he was holding his breath. Even so he couldn't stop himself from landing lightly at the mouth of the forest, eyes scanning the foliage for any sign of that already too familiar face.

A soft, almost lonely sound drew his attention and he slipped carefully through the trees – uncharacteristic for him, but it had only been a few days and he'd already learned that this island was dangerous, that there was no need to go running headlong into trouble if he could avoid it (especially because then Fushimi would have to get him _out_ of it and the last thing Yata needed was to owe that asshole another favor).

He peered between two spindly tree trunks and stopped dead. Fushimi was there in front of him, seated on a wide flat rock in a clearing next to what looked like a dry river bed. There was something like a small reed flute in his hands and he was idly playing, eyes half-closed and pale fingers moving slowly along the smooth body of the instrument. The sound made Yata's chest feel tight for some reason, the music slow and ancient like a funeral dirge, a song he'd never heard before and didn't recognize at all. A handful of dried leaves clustered by Fushimi's feet, dancing slightly in such a way that Yata couldn't tell if it was the wind or Fushimi's playing causing them to move.

Yata shifted, just the smallest rustling of feathers, and Fushimi stopped abruptly, looking up with a sudden scowl. Before Yata could say anything Fushimi raised one hand, palm flat in the air. He closed his fist and suddenly Yata felt himself almost _yanked_ forward, stumbling into the clearing.

“W-what the hell was that about?” Yata stuttered, nearly falling. Fushimi opened his hand and Yata felt an easing of tension throughout his body, despite the cold way Fushimi was glaring at him.

“Didn't I tell you to go away, Misaki?” Fushimi's lip was curled in a scowl. “I've had enough of your gratitude.”

“That's not why I'm here.” Yata felt suddenly awkward and nervous, a small shaky smile hovering over his lips. “I mean...well, I did bring you food and all. But that's not just why I came back! I wanted to ask you...” He coughed. “So, what was that about the flower? I mean, yesterday, with my name.”

“That's why you came back.” Fushimi snorted. “Are all tengu this stupid? You saw how dangerous it is, right? What happens when you let someone have your name.”

“W-well...it's okay if only you know it, right?” Yata said. “You're not gonna do anything with it.”

“Do you think I'm your friend, Misaki?” Fushimi snapped. “I'm not. If I wanted to I could use your name and make you walk right off the edge of the island.”

“But you wouldn't,” Yata said, and he couldn't help a small grin. “Because if you were that kinda guy you would've already done it.”

“Tch.” Fushimi clicked his tongue. “An idiot like you isn't worth the effort.”  


“ _Anyway,”_ Yata said, “are you gonna tell me about the flower or not?”

“It's stupid.” Fushimi lifted a hand again, waving a finger as if he could wrap the wind around it like vine. Yata felt another shiver down his spine again, but this time it wasn't uncomfortable – it felt more like being wrapped in warm feathers and held close to someone important, an old memory he'd never forgotten. “She was resting on a mountain. It was dead – no water, no animals, no plants. Weathered by the wind. When she was about to move on she saw a flower sticking out of a hole in the rock.”  


“My mom did?” Yata dared to climb up on the rock next to Fushimi. “Wait, you can tell all this just from my _name?”_

“What do you think a name is, Misaki?” Fushimi scoffed, looking off into the distance as he idly played the wind with his fingers. “It's part of you. The thoughts that were laid inside of it, the wishes of the person who named you. You carry it with you, and it grows into your being like a weed. You can't cut it out of your bones, even if you wanted to.”

There was something strange in his tone, eyes fixed on his own fingers, and Yata leaned against him just enough that one wing brushed against Fushimi's arm.

“You know...you know, I don't remember much about my mom,” Yata said quietly. “I was only around six when she died. I guess – something attacked her on the Floating Continent, and she couldn't get away in time. She hid me in a cellar, and when I came out...” Yata shook his head, hands clenching a little as he tried to bury the memory. “I remember the little stuff, all the time — she had a great smile, you know? And I remember one time I was sick and she took me under her wing and gave me milk and took care of me and it made me feel really safe, like when you know someone’s there for you and won’t let anything happen to you.” He laughed quietly. “I always hated my name.”  


Fushimi seemed to stiffen just a bit beside him, hand frozen palm up, fingers bent.

“Something that blossoms in rough places,” he said finally.

“Huh?” Yata glanced over at him.

“That was why she named you like that. 'Something beautiful, that blossoms in rough places.'” He clicked his tongue, glancing at Yata with a crooked smile. “How stupid and sentimental.”

“Hey, don't call my mom stupid!” Yata pushed Fushimi's shoulder playfully and even so it almost knocked Fushimi off the rock, earning Yata another glare that was completely ignored. “Something that blossoms in rough places, huh?” He couldn't help but smile, his body feeling suddenly warm and light despite the night wind. _So that's what it means._ A small wish, placed inside his name. The belief that he would grow into someone who would keep blossoming even if the terrain was rocky and the air was parched. Yata glanced up, meeting Fushimi's eyes. “Hey...thanks for telling me, Fushimi. It's kinda weird but...knowing that, it makes me feel better? I guess that's stupid, but...”

“Tch. I didn't do anything.” Fushimi immediately slid down from the rock, kicking a small pebble into the river bed. 

“Yeah you did! I never knew...” Yata shook his head. “It's kinda cool, that you read all that from my name.”

“Cool.” Fushimi’s voice was dark and hollow, and Yata couldn't quite make out his expression. “There are other things you can do with a name, Misaki. Twist the name around your fingers until it almost snaps. Bend the syllables until they turn into something else…or don’t, because even a stupid cruel joke is stronger than the power you have over yourself. Take away the water you drink by binding your tongue with words and incantations, using the name like a shackle so all you can do is watch while everything around you gets twisted too. It’s not _cool_ , Misaki. It’s an old, useless magic.”

“But…still magic, right?” Yata grinned. “I’m kinda shitty at magic stuff so maybe I don’t understand everything, but…I think it’s really amazing, that you know how do this kinda thing.”

“It’s nothing worth acting in awe about, idiot.” Fushimi looked pointedly away from him but Yata thought there might have been an uncharacteristic color in his cheeks.

“And you told me about my mom too,” Yata added, glancing up towards the moon and stars above. “I always wanted to know more about her…what she liked, what she wanted me to grow up to be. It kinda feels like…I dunno, like I fit a little more now? Because I know Mom was thinking that much about me. So, uh…” Yata coughed, feeling suddenly awkward. “Seriously, Fushimi. Thanks.”

“Don't thank me.” Fushimi's reply was sullen as always but Yata thought there was something slightly less abrasive in it, as if Fushimi was only saying it because the idea of actually accepting thanks was clearly foreign to him.

“Anyway, I gotta get back.” Yata hopped off the rock, flexing his wings. “I’ll see you tomorrow, all right, Fushimi?”

“You’re the one always inviting yourself back,” Fushimi muttered, and Yata grinned widely.

“Because someone needs to feed your skinny ass, that’s why,” Yata said. “Y’know, if you’d let me take you back to Homra we could—”

“I’m not staying with some smelly pompous birds,” Fushimi snorted, already walking away. “If they’re so great just stay there and leave me alone.”  


“Yeah, yeah.” Yata rolled his eyes — Fushimi was always an asshole like this but Yata was starting to get the idea that when you got down to it he wasn’t that bad a guy either. “Hey, Fushimi...”  


“What?” Fushimi didn't turn but he did stop walking, waiting for Yata to speak.

“What about your name?” He could feel something on the edge of his mind again, and the words came out before he'd even stopped to think about them.

What about it?” Fushimi did turn then, moonlight reflecting off an oddly distant look in his eyes. “I’m not telling you my full name, _Misaki._ ”

“I didn’t ask that!” Yata snapped back. “I just wondered…I mean, you know where my name came from. What’d your mother think when she named you?”

“Who cares?” Fushimi shrugged, a little too languid. “I don’t play around with my own name anyway.”

“Y-yeah, I guess I wouldn’t either…is it dangerous? To do your own?” Yata wondered.

“If you lose hold of the syllables they’ll fly away,” Fushimi said. “If your name gets lost what do you think happens, Misaki?”

“Um…you have to pick a new one?” The thought of something like a _name_ flying away wasn’t anything that had ever occurred to him before he’d met Fushimi.

“Tch. Idiot.” Fushimi crossed his arms. “There are things that are part of you, and that the world sinks into you. Your name, the wind blowing your face, the moon shining its light on you.” He looked agitated and Yata wasn’t sure why. “If you lose it, you can’t be yourself anymore.”

“Can't be yourself?” The air felt heavy, like a shroud had been laid over them both, and Fushimi turned away abruptly.

“I thought you were going.” Fushimi's voice was almost too calm and Yata shook himself lightly as if trying to cast off raindrops.

“Y-yeah, yeah, I'm going.” His chest felt oddly tight as he took to the air, eyes still on Fushimi as the figure below him grew smaller and smaller. “Hey, I'll be back tomorrow night, okay?”

He thought Fushimi might have waved a hand towards him but it was hard to tell in the dark, and Yata finally turned and began to head home. 

_Something that blossoms in rough places._ Fushimi’s sulky voice rang through his head, and as he flew Yata couldn’t help but smile.

–

“Oh, Yata-kun? How rare to see you out so late.”

Yata grimaced as he touched down at the foot of High Peak Mountain. A man in glasses and a fancy yukata was lying on a rock before him, smoking a pipe, pointed ears pricked up and nine tails waving behind him.

High Peak had been the perfect spot for Home Nest the moment Mikoto had seen it, but Homra hadn’t been the only tribe to think so. They’d taken care of any other flocks that tried to lay claim of course — no tengu could match Homra tengu — but the clan of kitsune that lived at the foot of the mountain had been harder to deal with. All Yata knew was that Kusanagi and Mikoto had gone down the mountain and had been away for so long Yata had been about to go down there himself to rescue them when they’d finally returned, Kusanagi looking worn out and Mikoto just mildly irritated, stating that the matter had been taken care of. Apparently Kusanagi had worked out some kind of truce with the leader of the kitsune and both tribes largely kept to themselves after that. All except one, the nine tailed bastard who was the leader of the clan and who always seemed to show up at the worst possible time, all politeness and irritating smug smiles.

The name they'd been given for him was Munakata and Anna always called him 'Reisi,' though Kusanagi had said once that neither one was actually his name – “it's his name in our language, or so he tells it,” Kusanagi had said when Yata had asked why the hell that guy was giving them a fake name, and looking at the kitsune sitting there Yata suddenly thought of Fushimi and syllables gathered in an open palm.

“That’s none of your business,” Yata muttered, already turning away. Truce or not, Yata had disliked Munakata from the first moment he had laid eyes on the fox, and if Anna didn’t seem to have some kind of weird fondness for the guy Yata would have been of the opinion that Homra should have burned the irritating bastard alive by now for disrespecting them.  “It’s tengu business.”

“Is that so?” Munakata slid off the rock, putting his pipe to his lips as he stepped forward, nine tails waving. “You appear to be wrapped up entirely in string, Yata-kun.”

“Eh?” Yata stretched his neck to look at his wings, trying to see if he’d gotten tangled up in something somehow – who knew what kind of invisible nets Fushimi could have had scattered around his island and it would be just like that asshole not to tell Yata that he'd gotten caught in one. Munakata laughed, amused, and Yata straightened with a glare, face feeling suddenly hot.

“It is not your physical body of which I speak.” Munakata blew out a puff of slightly sparkling blue smoke, holding out his free hand palm up in a way that immediately reminded Yata of Fushimi. “It appears to be somewhat deeper. _Yatagarasu._ ”

Yata felt something settle over him then, a prickly feeling that he'd only felt a couple times before but was already too familiar with—

“What the hell, are you doing some shit with my name?” Yata demanded, wings spread wide as if trying to shake off a spiderweb that had attached itself to him.

“Oya? So you recognize it.” Munakata smiled brilliantly, as if he’d uncovered something interesting. 

“But…you don’t know my whole name!” Yata protested. His skin still felt odd, like there were goosebumps all over his body.

“Name magic is a fascinating thing,” Munakata said, bringing his pipe to his lips again. “It is not a magic to be used by tengu, of course, so perhaps you did not know this? While the truest strength is in knowing the full name there are certain…implications, in a name that one has chosen on their own. Feelings that you have placed inside that name, which may be seen by others who are able to look for it. I simply took a small look, that is all. I have not harmed that name in any way.”

“I don’t care what the fuck you’re doing with it, it’s creepy!” Yata stated. It wasn't at all like when Fushimi had done it, not really – Fushimi wasn't going to _do_ anything to Yata's name, after all. But Munakata looking felt like someone was trying to see inside him in a way that Yata didn't like at all.

“I meant no harm.” Munakata spread his arms wide and the strange feeling prickling along Yata’s skin faded. The kitsune’s eyes were still fixed on him, bright and sharp, as if he had seen something in Yata that even Yata himself was unaware of. “I only wished to see what the source of that connection was. Very interesting.”

“W-what does that mean?” Yata found himself asking despite himself.

“As I said: you are covered from head to wingtip in red string, Yata-kun,” Munakata said calmly. “I cannot see the other end, who the remainder of it is attached to. It seems even the parts of your name that I cannot read are twisted up in it. This is a sign, for those who know how to interpret it. There is a connection in you that you yourself may not even be capable of cutting. Have you given your name away recently, perhaps?”

“N-no,” Yata said, a little too quickly. Munakata didn’t press however, though his smile only grew wider.

“I see. Be careful, Yata-kun.” Munakata turned, tails waving as his body began to fade away into smoke. “Connections wound so tightly are also liable to wound the owner, if you do not understand the proper way to unravel them without disconnecting. That person who carries the other end of your string, is doubtless aware of this as well.”

Yata stared at him, uncomprehending, and soon the kitsune’s body had entirely faded away, leaving nothing behind but a small blue bellflower lying on the ground. Yata shook his head, irritated. That bastard always had to be so freaking _dramatic_ about everything, what was so hard about just _walking_ away instead of showing off his fancy magic?

_Magic…_ It had definitely been the same name-magic as Fushimi had used, but the feeling hadn’t been quite the same. Fushimi’s had felt…heavy, but not unpleasant, and when he'd read Yata's name the second time it had been more like a small light tug, as if someone was pulling on his sleeves.

“Che.” Yata snorted, crossing his arms. “Creepy bastard.”

_Fushimi’s probably better at it than that guy anyway._ The thought made him smile, one hand idly rubbing against the glowing bracelet on his wrist as Yata turned and began his ascent up the mountain.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from endless slumber, posts update, crawls back into cave*

“ _Misaki!”_

_Yata heard the voice but he couldn’t seem to move, completely transfixed by the thing in front of him. The snake was larger than he was — larger than any snake he’d ever seen on the continent, or in the mountains where he and his mother had made their nest — and it was staring at him with eyes wide like the moon. Yata felt as if he was sinking into those eyes, falling, his wings trembling and his entire body stiff and held fast to the ground—_

“ _Misaki, move!” A rock flew into the air and hit the snake right between its eyes. That seemed to break the spell between them — the snake darted forward faster than Yata would have thought possible and it felt like there was no way Yata could move fast enough to avoid it. Then someone tugged on his arm and he felt himself falling backwards, landing hard on the ground, and the snake's jaws closed over the empty air above him._

“ _W-wha—” Yata propped himself up on his arms, his mind feeling slow and sluggish, and then the snake was there again with its open mouth and ivory teeth, so long and sharp that Yata could imagine himself being skewered by one easily, as if he was nothing more than a sparrow facing down an adder, and instinctively he covered his face with his wings._

“ _Misaki.” There was an echo in the name that he couldn’t explain but somehow he found himself standing up, legs shaking. There was a figure between him and the snake, holding a thick piece of wood in trembling hands. “You have to run away.”_  


“ _But—” Yata immediately felt a rush of shame. Wasn’t he supposed to be a man? His mama had said he was brave, that he was her little warrior who would help protect her. And here he was, trembling and crying like a baby again._

“ _Uwabami is venomous. If it bites you you’ll die. I’ll hold it off here.” The voice was simple and matter of fact, and Yata shook his head._

“ _What if you get bitten?”_

“ _It’s fine.” As if the warning Yata had just been given didn’t even matter to the person who gave it, and Yata’s small fists clenched._

“ _I won’t! We have to get out of the forest together!”_

“ _Mi—” There was a momentary odd feeling, that echo in his bones again, but Yata didn’t even give himself a moment to feel it and instead reached down and grabbed two rocks, each one big enough that it fit perfectly in his palm. Yata gave what he hoped sounded like a ferocious cry — he’d heard his mama make a war cry before, and it always made his heart shake for a moment — and ran at the uwabami._

_The snake reared back for just a moment, clearly not having expected its prey to suddenly fight back, and Yata flapped his small wings once, dirt and leaves scattering before him as he covered his face and threw the rocks with all his might._

_He heard the uwabami make a sound almost like a squawk but didn’t even bother to see if the rocks had hit their mark, instead turning on his heel and running, grabbing onto that thin pale wrist as he went._

_They ran thoughtlessly through the woods, branches tearing at their clothes and feet, but Yata didn’t stop until he felt the presence behind him start to falter. He stumbled to a stop, only letting go of that hand once he was certain that nothing seemed to have followed, and Yata sank down against a tree._

“ _What was that, Misaki?” Honest confusion, and the blue eyes looked at him with irritation. “I could have—”_

“ _Are you all right?” Yata grabbed his wrists again, looking him over the way Yata recalled his own mother doing whenever he came home muddy and bruised from some small adventure. “It didn’t bite you did it? What was that — an uwa—uwabami? Are there lots of those in this forest? You should—”_

“ _You should have run when I told you to.” Sullen and argumentative, and Yata scrunched up his face as he placed his fists on his hips._

“ _Nope.”_

“…’ _Nope?’” The confusion again, as if Yata had said something entirely unexpected._

“ _I can’t leave you by yourself!” Yata said firmly. “You’ll get eaten. Well…though I guess you’re kinda small to be eaten, but…”_

“ _You’re one to talk.” Arms crossed, something like a smile on that face. “You’re barely a morsel to an uwabami.”_

“ _Mama says I’m growing!” Yata said, stamping a foot. “Look, look! You did get hurt.”_

_There was a small bleeding scratch on his companion’s wrist, likely from a branch that had gotten too close in their escape from the Uwabami._

“ _It’s just a scratch.” A shrug, unconcerned, and Yata frowned. He acted like that too sometimes, because he was too old to worry about scratches, and he knew what Mama always said about that._

“ _If it’s bleeding it’s important enough to worry about.” He dug around in his pockets, finally pulling out a frayed handkerchief. “Here.”_

_He wrapped it around the injury, the small scrap of fabric still more than enough to cover the thin wrist._

“ _What are you doing?” More confusion, blue eyes wide like twin stars in the moonlight._

“ _Taking care of the scratch,” Yata said bluntly. He coughed a little. “Anyway — thanks for saving me!”_

“ _Thanks for…” Blue eyes darted to the maakeshift binding on his wrist and then to the ground. “Run away next time you see one of those. Anything that looks dangerous, you’re better off running than challenging it.”_

“ _Right.” Yata grinned. “If we see one, we’ll run away together, right?”_

_Another blank look and then, finally, the smallest of smiles, and the word whispered almost reverently._

“…’ _Together.’”_

–

“Oi. Yata.”

Yata turned, already scowling even before he saw Yamaguchi's face. The other tengu was standing there with arms crossed and the usual group behind him – or not the usual, Yata realized, and something twisted in his stomach. There were several tengu there that he knew hadn't been part of Yamaguchi's faction before, tengu that Yata had trusted were still loyal to Mikoto they way they should be. Just another reminder of the way things changed – more and more tengu had been joining Yamaguchi's faction of late, and flying off during the day when they were needed to help prepare for the ceremony that was only three days away.

“What the hell do you want, Yamaguchi?” Yata's feathers rustled in irritation. The sun was just beginning to set, and he'd been about to go out on what had become his near-nightly visit to see Fushimi.

It hadn't been that long, really, since they'd finally started connecting, but to Yata it felt longer somehow. Fushimi was....well, he was Fushimi, uncooperative and gloomy and always ready with a glare or a sharp word. But he was also different from anyone Yata had ever met, amazing in his own way, and someone who seemed to understand the restlessness that Yata couldn't seem to shake himself of.

“Where are you going?” Yamaguchi leaned against a tree, almost idly, dusty black wings rustling and trailing feathers.

“None of your fucking business.” He'd been warned by Kusanagi twice now but Yata didn't see any point in offering courtesy to someone who had been showing nothing but disrespect for Anna and Mikoto ever since Anna's place as successor was announced. 

“For a guy who keeps talking about how we need to keep the flock together you're sure flying off a lot,” Yamaguchi said, lips slightly upturning in something like a smile, as if he'd caught Yata out somehow. “Found yourself another flock already?”

“Sh-shut up!” Yata could feel his temper starting to spark and he clenched a fist tightly, trying to breathe – he'd already been scolded and he didn't want to disappoint again, to show he couldn't control himself. Part of him couldn't help but think of Fushimi, and how he would handle someone like this – a click of the tongue and something sharp said in a cool, mocking voice, as if the person in front of him wasn't even worth the energy of answering. The thought was steadying and Yata relaxed his stance, leaning back on his heels. “Che. You're the guy who keeps flying off, right? Kusanagi-san and Mikoto-san aren't saying anything but the rest of us can see what you guys are doing.”

“So what?” Yamaguchi shrugged, totally untouched by Yata's words. “Why shouldn't we look for somewhere better, for a ruler who can actually _lead_ us instead of staying behind and talking in riddles and shit. Look, Yata, Anna's a good kid and all, but she's not a leader. Homra's always been a flock that didn't take any shit – other flocks left us alone because they knew we could take them if it came to that. It's all about _respect_ – and with a Diviner leading us we're gonna lose that. So you can't expect that everyone's gonna be like you, happy to sit here wagging our tails and acting like nothing's changing. You really think you're still gonna fit in here, when that kid's in charge?”

“That's...” Yata's fingers dug into his palm and he bit his lip, wings spread wide and feathers rustling. Yamaguchi smirked and suddenly Yata couldn't help but feel a burst of anger, an undeniable urge to punch the asshole in his stupid smug mouth.

_“Tch. Do tengu always get carried away with useless things?”_ Fushimi's voice echoed in his mind again, and Yata breathed heavily through his nose, arms held stiff at his sides.

“I know, all right? Homra's changing.” Yata looked up sharply at Yamaguchi, challenging. “But I'm not just gonna leave Anna when she needs me.”

“So that's it?” Yamaguchi laughed. “Still playing the big brother, Yata? That's not your place in Homra and you know it. If you were smart, you'd get out while the getting's good, same as we are. At the end of the day, Anna's not one of us. She wasn't born into Homra, and she wasn't meant to be our leader. If you wanna sit around and play happy family while the world changes around you, until that weak little kid has you flushed out of the tribe for being useless in a Homra that's been torn apart then you're welcome to--”

Yata's fist flashed out, so fast he almost didn't realize he'd made the move, vision going red as he pushed Yamaguchi hard to the ground.

“You asshole!” All thoughts of keeping calm were gone now and Yata was dimly aware of hands grabbing at him – Yamaguchi's followers, trying to pry him off their leader, and Yata aimed another punch at the nearest one, legs kicking and feathers flying everywhere.

_I know that – do you think I don't know that?!_ He always had, from the moment Anna had been named as Mikoto's successor, he'd known there was no place for him here. Even so, he couldn't just sit and listen anymore, couldn't let this asshole say those things about _Anna,_ who was bearing up under a destiny she'd never asked for, who had held his hand the first day she'd been brought into the flock and smiled at him with her whole heart in her eyes.

“Yata!” Someone grabbed his shoulders and Yata flailed slightly as he was dragged off of Yamaguchi.

“Let me go asshole, I'm--” The words died on Yata's lips as he realized who had grabbed him. Kusanagi was staring at him, expression stern and almost...disappointed, somehow, in a way that made Yata stagger slightly backwards. “K-Kusanagi-san...I...”

“Hmph. You've still got some fight in you after all, huh, Yata?” Yamaguchi snorted as he stood. He had the beginnings of a black eye already starting to show on his face and suddenly Yata was very aware of his own aches and bruising. “You're lucky Kusanagi-san was here to save your ass. Not like it's gonna matter once Anna's taken over and you're--”

“Yamaguchi.” Kusanagi's voice was sharp enough to shut even Yamaguchi up. “You take your guys and get outta here for a while, okay?”

“Kusanagi-san, you're not just--” Yata started and was silenced with a look. Yamaguchi stared at both of them for a long moment, clearly trying not to shrink under Kusanagi's gaze, and finally he turned away, gesturing for the others to follow.

“Whatever. We got more important things to do anyway.” There was the rustling of multiple wings as Yamaguchi and his faction took to the sky, disappearing behind the dark clouds.

“Yata. What'd I tell you about gettin' into fights within the clan?” Kusanagi didn't even turn to watch Yamaguchi and his followers leave, his focus entirely on Yata.

“I couldn't just let those assholes keep saying whatever they wanted!” Yata's face felt hot, and he wasn't sure if it was from shame at being scolded by Kusanagi again or the burn of anger that still boiled hot and unsatisfied in his veins. “You saw it too, right? Yamaguchi's been going off all the time and--”

“Mikoto knows about that, and so do I.” Kusanagi shifted his stance, shaking his head. “It's none of our business where those boys decide to stay. The unity of the flock that's here, that's what's important now.”

“What the hell?” Yata couldn't believe what he was hearing. “But...we have to keep Homra together, right? We can't let the flock splinter like this, not when we're about to get a new head! Someone's gotta teach those guys a lesson!”

“And that's Mikoto's call, not yours.” Kusanagi gave Yata a searching look. “And you've been missin' a lot lately too, I noticed.”

“That's...I just needed to blow off some steam.” Yata shook his head. “Anyway, it's not the same as what those assholes are doing! They're talking about leaving Homra!”

“Then they'll leave. We don't force anyone to stay here, Yata. Homra's not that kind of flock.”

“But...” Yata felt something tight in his chest, a choking sensation crawling up his throat. “If we don't stop guys like Yamaguchi from leaving now then there's no way Anna's gonna be able to keep them here, we need to show them who's boss while we're still strong!”

The words left Yata's mouth all in rush, hands clenched and nails digging into his palms, and he almost didn't hear the soft rustle of leaves behind him.

“Misaki...”

The voice was quiet, almost hesitant, and Yata had a detached sensation as though watching from outside himself even as his body turned to see Anna standing there behind him, staring at him with wide fathomless eyes.

“Anna...” _Idiot. Idiot. Idiot._ Of course she'd heard every word. Every thoughtless word that came out of his mouth, because he was too stupid to do anything but yell and throw punches around, and now look where it had gotten him.

“Yata-chan.” Kusanagi's voice sounded as if it was coming through filter and Yata's wings spread on their own, his entire body shuddering as he immediately took to the sky.

“I—I gotta go.” He didn't look at either of them, couldn't look at them, and Yata could feel something hot and bitter stinging at his eyes as he turned and flew away from the mountain as fast as his wings could go.

_Idiot. I'm such a stupid fucking idiot._

What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't go back, not yet – he needed to clear his head at least, let the pounding in his pulse die down. He needed to be away from everyone, even as the thought of being alone made him want to throw up.

Yata wiped furiously at his eyes, and continued on a straight course towards the one place he could think of where he could go and be alone, without actually being alone: Fushimi's island.

–

There was no sign of Fushimi when Yata landed in the grass near the bottom of the hill, but that wasn't anything new. The sun had just gone down and the grass was bathed in soft red light from the moon above, and Yata held a hand up to his eyes as he looked around. 

“Fushimi?” Yata took half a step towards the direction of the forest when he heard the sound of soft footfalls from behind him. Yata immediately turned, Fushimi's name on his lips, and then the words momentarily died in his throat before a new feeling swelled in the pit of his stomach, an entirely different heat from the shame and embarrassment he'd been feeling moments before. “Wait, what the hell happened to you?”

“None of your business.” Fushimi's shoulders were hunched and his face sulky as he limped down the stone steps that led to the shrine.

“The _fuck_ it’s none of my business, you look like shit!” Yata flew next to him, reaching for his arm to help him down the last few steps, and Fushimi deliberately pulled his arm away.

He looked an absolute mess, from Yata’s point of view — not that Fushimi ever looked that well, now that he thought of it, always so pale and skinny, with his ragged clothes and bare feet. Yata had no idea what Fushimi had been eating (if anything) before Yata started bringing him food every evening, and he still wasn’t sure where Fushimi slept, assuming he slept at all. When Yata had asked, wondering if it wouldn’t be easier to meet before sundown so he didn’t have to bring the lantern along every time, Fushimi had shrugged and muttered something about the sun being too bright and sleeping during the day. That had led Yata to briefly theorize that Fushimi was indeed some kind of ghost or vampire, but as far as Yata could tell he was perfectly solid and he ate regular food fine (though Yata wouldn’t have been at all surprised if it turned out Fushimi _was_ a vampire and just refused to drink blood, considering how picky he was about everything Yata brought him).

For all that though, Fushimi at least tended to look relatively intact, enough that Yata had almost begun to believe that Fushimi really could take care of himself, after a fashion. However, he’d clearly come off the worst for _something_ today, his pale skin marred by angry red scratches and bruises still the sickly yellow that hadn't quite darkened yet to the inevitable black and blue. He was definitely limping a bit too, and there was blood dripping down from one arm onto the stone steps as he walked.

“It’s nothing.” Fushimi shrugged, careless, as he made his way by himself down the last step onto the grass. “I killed it, so you don’t have to be scared, _Misaki.”_

“I’m not scared you idiot, I’m worried about you.” Yata reached out and grabbed for Fushimi’s arm without even thinking, barely noticing the way Fushimi immediately flinched and tried to pull away as Yata pushed up his sleeve. “Shit, the wound looks deep….wait, I think I got bandages in my pack, whenever I'm going anywhere far Kusanagi-san always says to...” His voice faltered slightly and Yata shook off the feeling, forcing himself to focus on Fushimi. He shifted the pack off his shoulder and onto the ground, half-pulling Fushimi into a sitting position as he began to dig through his things.

“Lemme see — oh, here’s your food, Fushimi, you better fucking eat it all this time too —here!” Yata triumphantly pulled the bandages out of his pack. “Gimme your arm again.”

“Why?” Fushimi was staring at him with an odd expression, as if he had no idea what Yata was doing.

“So I can bandage your arm, idiot.” Yata rolled his eyes. “You’re hurt, right? If it gets infected you’ll get sick, y’know. Then what’re you gonna do, huh?”

“I can handle myself.” Fushimi’s voice was flat, almost sulky, but there was something defiant in it too, as if he was daring Yata to argue.

“Yeah, sure you can,” Yata said, shaking his head. “Stupid human. What if I wasn’t here, huh? Being here all by yourself can’t be safe right, I told you before—”

“I’m not leaving.” Fushimi roughly yanked his arm away. “And I’m not a human, _Misaki._ ”

“Yeah, well, until you tell me what you _are_ you’re still a human to me,” Yata said. “Stop being so stubborn and give me your arm.”

“I don’t need your pity,” Fushimi said coldly. “Do you want me to be grateful to you, Misaki? Showing such kindness, to the poor lonely urchin you found hiding on a crapsack island floating in the middle of nowhere.” His voice was high and mocking now, and Yata glared at him even as he continued to reach for Fushimi's arm.

“That’s not why I’m helping you!” Yata argued. “I mean…okay, yeah, you’re kind of a jerk and you’re by yourself so I was worried but…that’s because it’s dangerous being alone, you know? When I was by myself I got into all kinds of trouble, if Homra hadn’t saved me I would be dead right now!”

_Homra._ He remembered it still, Mikoto's hand reaching out to him. The Homra that had been so important to him, the first place in forever that had really, truly been home.

“So you’re just trying to be like your precious tengu King?” Fushimi sneered. “Taking pity on the less fortunate, making yourself feel good?”

“No!” Yata snapped. “I’m helping you because I _like_ you, you moron!”

“What?” Fushimi was looking at him as if he’d just proclaimed himself god of the winds and Yata laughed sheepishly.

“I mean…we’re friends, aren’t we?” Yata said slowly, feeling suddenly self conscious. “Yeah it’s only been a week, but…you told me about my mom, didn’t you? And you saved my life and we’ve been eating together for days now so we’re pretty much friends, right?”

“Friends.” Fushimi laughed scornfully. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, _Misaki.”_

“Look, just because _you_ don’t have any friends—” Yata cut off, reaching for Fushimi’s arm again. “Anyway, you’re hurt, right? So let me take care of you.”

“It’ll heal on its own.” Fushimi shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“What are you talking about, it looks pretty deep. Here hold still a minute.” Yata looked around helplessly, trying to remember what herbs Totsuka had taught him that were good for staving off infection. “Hey, do you have anything around that’s good for injuries? Totsuka-san showed me these plants with red leaves…they’re kinda star-shaped? I think he said those helped stuff heal faster…”

“There’s some in the forest.” Fushimi was still looking at him with the strange expression. “Near the net trap. Why?”

“Because I’m trying to make sure your stupid injuries heal all right.” Yata stood, flexing his wings. “All right, I’m gonna go get the plants and I’ll be right back. Yell if you need me, okay? And don’t move!” Yata pointed a finger at Fushimi dramatically. “If I catch you climbing those steps I’m gonna tie you down next time.”

Without waiting for an answer Yata flew off towards the forest, keeping low over the tree tops so that he could get a good view without having to worry about accidentally setting off traps. He had just swung down onto a tree branch when he felt a faint tug in the back of his mind, almost like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

_What’s…_ Yata shook his head, trying to focus. He had to find the plants for Fushimi first, then he'd worry about weird feelings.

That was when he felt the tug again, a vague sensation more like someone placing a hand on his shoulder than anything with real strength behind it. Even so there was a clear momentary image in his mind.

_Misaki._

It reminded him of when Fushimi had pulled out the characters of his name and Yata swore suddenly as he spread his wings again, feathers scattering to the forest floor as he hurried back towards the foot of the hill where he had left Fushimi.

“Fushimi! Are you okay? What happened, did you get attacked again or…Fushimi?” 

Fushimi was still sitting where Yata had left him, staring up at him with wide blue eyes.

“Fushimi? You okay?” Yata waved a hand in front of his face and Fushimi seemed to recover, clicking his tongue.

“I’m thirsty,” he muttered.

“That’s it? How’d you call me, anyway? It was like I heard you but I didn’t…”

“I used your name, idiot.” Fushimi started to raise his injured arm and then winced, lowering it back to his side. “You wouldn’t be able to hear my voice from all the way in the forest, right?”

“So you pulled me back?” Yata wondered.

“It’s not a command, _Misaki,”_ Fushimi said. “You’d know if it was. It’s just supposed to be like hearing someone call you from a distance.”

“Oh.” Yata smiled. “Cool!”

“Not really.” Fushimi shrugged again, looking away.

“Okay, so water and herbs. I’ll be back, all right? Just do the— the name trick or whatever if you need me.” Yata spread his wings again, leaping back into the air.

He was barely more than halfway into the forest when he felt the tug again and turned back abruptly. Fushimi was still sitting there in the same spot, one hand holding onto his bloodied arm.

“Yeah? Did something happen, Fushimi?” Yata looked around for any sign of danger, an emergency that would have called him back, but there was nothing.

“I just wanted to tell you that you forgot to leave the food here.” Fushimi was looking down, brows slightly furrowed as if trying to figure something out. “I’m hungry.”

“Right, sorry!” Yata hit the side of his head lightly with a fist as he pulled the food back out and set it in front of Fushimi. “Eat the vegetables this time!”

Fushimi didn’t reply, already digging through the package for the meat. Yata sighed fondly and spread his wings again. As he did he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Fushimi was watching him and he paused just a moment before flying straight up, quickly hiding himself in the nearest cloud bank before turning and flying in the opposite direction of the forest, perching on the torii gate instead where he could still just make out Fushimi sitting sulkily at the foot of the hill.

There was the light tug on his mind again, even though Fushimi hadn’t so much as moved, and Yata immediately dived down, landing hard on the ground right behind where Fushimi sat.

“I knew it!” Yata stated as Fushimi turned abruptly, clearly caught off guard for a moment before his expression settled back into its usual bored demeanor.

“What are you going on about, Misaki?” Fushimi grumbled. “I’m not thirsty anymore. Don’t bother with the water.”

“Is that all?” Yata couldn’t help but grin a bit. _This guy’s really not honest at all, is he?_ “Well, if you need me again just call, right? I’ll hear you even if I’m all the way back at High Peak.”

“You can’t feel that light a spell so far away,” Fushimi grumbled, putting a piece of grilled fish into his mouth and chewing slowly.

“I will,” Yata said firmly. “Totsuka-san says I’m the type of guy who has sharp senses. I’ll hear you wherever I am if you call me, so you don’t have to keep worrying about it, all right?”

“Who’s worrying?” Fushimi dug around in the package for another bite of meat. “I just didn’t want you wasting energy on useless things.”

“Right, right.” Yata shook his head a little. “Well, thanks for letting me know, Fushimi. I’m gonna go get the herbs for you now, so just relax, okay? I’m gonna come right back.”

Fushimi didn’t look at him, still eating mechanically, but it seemed to Yata’s eyes as if something small about him had changed, just a slight relaxation of the wariness always so present in those sharp blue eyes, and Yata smiled to himself as he took to the sky one more time.

This time there was no tug in his mind as he made his way back to where he’d run into Fushimi hunting the aosagibi days before. The plants were right where Fushimi had said they would be and Yata recognized them immediately from the last time he’d injured himself on one of the cliffs at High Peak, flying too fast and too recklessly. Totsuka was skilled at healing and had assured him that wrapping the plants against the wounds would help them heal faster. Yata hadn’t believed him at the time but sure enough the wound had almost been gone within a few days. Fushimi’s injuries looked a little worse than Yata’s had been that time but Yata figured anything to help was a good thing. He filled his pack as much as he could and then flew back towards the hill.

Fushimi was right where Yata had left him, the packet of food laid out before him. He’d left all the vegetables but had at least eaten some of the fruit Yata had put in and Yata figured that was enough for now at least. Fushimi looked up as Yata landed, eyes a touch wider than usual.

“All right, I got the herbs. Hold out your arm and I’ll bandage it, okay?”

“It will heal fine, you know.” Fushimi held out his arm anyway and Yata pressed some of the red leaves against the edges of the cut, holding them still with one hand as he wound the bandages with the other. “You don’t need to worry so much about it, Misaki.”

“Someone needs to worry about you, right?” Yata said, eyes intent on his work. “Fushimi…it’s kinda dangerous being here by yourself, right?” He bit his lip. “Shouldn’t your flock be here taking care of you? I-I know you don't have one now but...there was someone here before you, right? That temple...”

“We’re not all birds, Misaki,” Fushimi said. “Not everyone has _flocks._ ”

“O-okay, your herd or your brood or…whatever it is a whatever you are has!” Yata said. “You know…your parents, or…”

“Parents.” Fushimi snorted, the acid clear in his voice. “Don’t be an idiot, Misaki.”

Yata glanced up at him sharply but Fushimi wasn’t looking at him, eyes fixed on the ground. There was along uncomfortable silence and Yata swallowed hard.

“Fushimi…sorry…” Yata bit his lip. “I mean, I know it’s…I told you about my mom, right? She got separated from her flock somehow, I guess. Or she left, I dunno. Then when she died I was by myself. I lived with some of the orphans in a city on the Continent but they weren’t tengu. I knew I didn’t really…belong, you know? Like there was something about me that was different and it wasn’t just my wings. Like I was missing something everyone else had and I knew it. Then Homra saved me and it was great — King's amazing and we flew all around and fought any assholes who tried to take Homra’s territory. I finally felt _part_ of something, in Homra.”

“Tch.” Fushimi clicked his tongue quietly, eyes still on the ground.

“I wanna be of use to everyone,” Yata said, words suddenly choked. “I wanna make sure they don’t regret saving me. But…it’s all gonna change once we have our new King. We’re not gonna be the same anymore and I keep wondering…what if I don’t fit in? Like, what if that Homra breaks apart and I’m not part of that flock anymore? Then where am I supposed to be? It’s like I’m outside everything. Like I don’t…”

“Like you’re not one of them.” Fushimi’s voice was so low Yata almost didn't hear it. 

“Right!” Yata nodded. “Kusanagi-san says this is just how tengu flocks work, that you pass on leadership and all and the shape of the flock changes. But…what if there’s not room for me in that place?”

There was a long silence and Yata bit his lip.

“S-sorry.” What kind of an idiot was he, telling all of this to Fushimi? Yata sighed. “It's just I really screwed up today, and what if--”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Fushimi's voice cut him off and Yata glanced over at him. Fushimi still wasn't looking at him, idly picking up a few rocks in his good hand and rolling them around. 

“Eh?” 

“You don’t need them, do you?” Fushimi shook his head, throwing the rocks up into the air and then catching them. “Doesn’t it feel unsatisfying to you, to be locked into a single role like that? Following stupid laws that you never had a say in making, everyone telling you that you have to be one thing, even if you never got to choose it at all. If you say you’re not interested in the talk of useless adults and that you don’t want to be caged by it everyone turns their back on you.”

“Fushimi…” Yata finished tightening the bandage and leaned back on his arms. “Yeah…I kinda know what you mean. But…” He looked up at the moon, blood red in the sky, half a step to full. “Homra’s my family too. I just…don’t want to be unwanted again.”

“Then leave that place behind and find somewhere else.” Fushimi’s voice was almost calculatedly casual as he pulled his arm back. “You don't want to deal with any of those useless rules anymore, right? There's no point in belonging to a world like that. You can find somewhere else.” A pause, and Fushimi wasn't looking at Yata as he spoke. “I could show you, since a hothead like you would just get killed going off by himself anyway.”

Yata stared at him, Fushimi careful and calculating in the moonlight, offering something without truly saying so and Yata couldn't help but laugh, feeling a sudden lightness in his body that he didn't remember having before.

“You would...like, you and me?” It was a dizzying thought, impossible – leaving Homra, leaving Mikoto and Anna and everyone. There was no way he could just go, when they needed him.

_But they don't need you._ The bitter words that wouldn't leave his mouth, and Yata could feel every one of his own bruises. Homra didn't need him. But Fushimi – Fushimi, with his sharp tongue and bright eyes and ideas that Yata had never even dreamed of before – Fushimi did. There was a place for him, by Fushimi's side, even if Fushimi sulked and complained and tried to push Yata away, even as something unseen between them pulled Yata back to his side. All tangled up in red string, just like the fox bastard had said.

“Wait, you mean it? This place isn't really much of a nest....” Despite his words the idea didn’t seem quite so unappealing, now that he thought about it. “You know I still have no idea where the hell you sleep, Fushimi.”

“As if I’d share my sleeping space with a smelly tengu, _Misaki.”_ Despite his words there was the smallest hint of a smile on Fushimi’s face. “You can sleep in the forest and be bait for the itsumade.”

“Yeah, right. Isn’t bait the job of a _human?”_ Yata said teasingly. “I mean – you're not kidding, right?”

“Tch. Don't make me regret offering.” Fushimi rolled his eyes. “We wouldn't have to stay here. We can find a place of our own.” He clicked his tongue. “Forget about it. Would you really leave that precious _King_ of yours anyway?”

“He's not...” Yata looked down, remembering the words that he'd allowed to tumble from his mouth before, the look that had been on Anna's face.

_There's no place for you there._

It stung, thinking about it. Homra had always been his place, his home. But now...if he had nowhere else to go...

“It's a promise.” Impulsively Yata pulled the glowing bracelet off his wrist, held it out. “I gotta get some stuff from Home Nest first. But tomorrow night I'll come back, all right? And—and you and me, we'll go away somewhere, make our own flock. This'll be our proof of it, okay?”

“Proof?” Fushimi looked skeptical even as he held out his hands, and there was something odd in his expression as Yata placed the bracelet there.

“W-well, in tengu flocks when we make an unbreakable promise we seal the deal with something precious.” Yata rubbed the back of his head, suddenly self conscious. “I-I know it's kinda stupid, but...that's my treasure, all right? I don't really remember where I got it, but I've had it since I was a kid and I've always felt like it was super important to me. So giving it to you is our proof, that I'll make good on my promise.” He held out a fist, letting the first real smile he'd felt since before sundown show on his face.

Fushimi looked away for a moment, clicking his tongue again, but even so he raised his good arm and tapped his fist lightly against Yata’s.

“I guess. A promise.”

“Great!” Yata beamed. “I gotta get back to High Peak before everyone starts to ask where I’ve been. I’ll see you tomorrow night like usual, all right?”

Fushimi nodded, getting to his feet himself.

“Tomorrow night.”

—

Yata was gone, his figure nothing more than a speck against the moon, and Fushimi held the small stone bracelet in his palm, watching moonlight play along the smooth sides of the stones.

_Misaki…_ He raised a hand and his fingers moved lightly, like playing keys on an instrument, and he saw the speck in the sky stop for a moment, hovering. Fushimi’s hand dropped as he let the name go and he saw Yata do a small circle before flying off again into the night sky.

“ _This'll be our proof of it, okay?”_

As if he could believe in promises, proof or not. Fushimi had long known what came of being so naive.

_But still…_ Fushimi placed the bracelet into his pocket, fingers still idly tracing each stone. Above him the dark hole in the sky was nearly complete, and he could feel a drowsiness settling over him already.

“ _We'll go away somewhere.”_ As if someone like Yata would have the power to break apart the miniature garden _that man_ had left behind. Asking Yata to come back had been foolish, pointless. There was nothing Misaki could do to change what was already set in stone. There wasn't much time left, and he'd long forgotten what it meant to spend time on dreams.

Even so, Fushimi found himself restless for tomorrow night, and Misaki's return.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slides an update across the table and disappears*

_They were huddled side by side in a thorny bush, Yata trying to make himself as small as he could manage, and the sounds in the distance were deafening. The person by Yata's side sat stock still, pale in the moonlight, his blue eyes wide and...frightened, almost, far more than Yata had seen from him in the entire time they'd been together._

__

__

“… _.” Yata opened his mouth to say something and his companion shook his head, one finger to his lips._

_The sounds were all around them, echoing off the trees and trailing inside the shadows, every moment coming closer — stamping feet, scratching nails, rustling bushes and the scream of something primal. Above it all, Yata thought he heard a voice, laughing._

“ _Come out, come out, little monkey! I brought the sarugami all this way to play with you!”_

_There was a clearing somewhere to their right, lit by an eerie red fire, and black silhouettes marched in a line. Someone laughed again and the silhouettes started to fight, like shadows in a  puppeteer’s play, and then there was more screaming, loud wild shrieks, wordless, angry. The sound was enough to shake the entire forest — or maybe not, Yata realized. It was the presence at his side who was shaking._

“ _I can make you come out, you know, little monkey? Should I pull on this syllable or that one? Hey, what do you think? Or are we playing hide and seek? If I win you’ll have to be punished, okay?”_

_The shaking at his side was getting worse, and impulsively Yata wrapped his arms and then his wings around the thin pale figure beside him, as if to shield him from everything outside of their hiding spot._

“ _Hmm? Are you alone, little monkey? Or did you bring a playmate? I see two sets of tracks. Why don’t we play a game? See how long you can hide him. And if I win we’ll have him go play with the onibi! If you win…well, we’ll see! You like games, right, monkey?”_

_More laughing and more screams, and the shadows on the trees were tearing each other apart. Then there was a flash of something like fire — bright and hot and dangerous — and the last shadow seemed to crumble away into nothing. Yata heard footsteps coming closer and held on tighter, wings pulled even closer over himself and his companion, and screwed his eyes shut tight._

_A pause, a small snicker, and then the footsteps moved away. Yata started to shift position but a hand touching his own kept him where he was, barely daring to breathe, waiting._

_Finally there was movement beneath him as his companion sat up, lightly pushing Yata’s wings away, and serious blue eyes met his._

“ _We have to get you out of here, Misaki.”_

–

It was dark on the mountainside as Yata returned to the home that hadn't felt that way in weeks, landing softly in the same clearing where he'd seen the fox bastard. There was a cool mountain breeze blowing, the kind he normally would have found refreshing if his whole body wasn't buzzing with jumbled thoughts and feelings.

He was leaving the flock. He'd promised Fushimi, right? After all this...he was going to be the one to leave.

_Because they'll make me go anyway._ It made his eyes sting, his throat feeling choked as if that mountain breeze was a forest fire instead. He didn't know what he wanted – to stay here, to go with Fushimi, for nothing to change, for everything to change. He knew he couldn't leave Fushimi alone, that was for sure – a guy like that, Yata had already figured out that he would be useless on his own and it was a miracle he'd survived this long. But together, maybe, they could find something new. Find a place where they both belonged.

_Belong._ The word made him shudder a little, feathers rustling as he tried to make his way back up the mountain as quietly as he could. He'd always wanted that, hadn't he? To be part of something, to be with someone. And after all he'd said earlier there was no way he could stay in the flock any longer. It had to be clear to everyone now, how he wouldn't fit, a square peg trying to squeeze itself into a round hole.

The breeze blew by again, more smoke in the air – and then it _was_ smoke, a slight curling trail of it that lingered on the tips of his hair and the edges of his feathers, and Yata raised his head.

There was a figure there in front of him, leaning against a tree almost casually, black smoke curling from the end of a long obsidian pipe. The moonlight was reflected through the tree leaves in a scattering of white patterns on a pair of great red wings which rustled slightly in the breeze, their color a deep dark red that grew lighter and lighter until it almost seemed as if the tips were glowing.

“Mikoto...san....” Yata's feet slowed to a stop, swallowing hard. Mikoto didn't even look up at him, still casually smoking as if they had only met by chance just now, as if he hadn't been waiting for Yata at all. 

Mikoto was still the grandest tengu Yata had ever met, the kind that he had dreamed of following as a scrawny fledgling living on the Continent. Though most tengu had only limited magic Mikoto had been born to be a Firebringer, able to summon flames from his fingertips with a small incantation. He had been the one who had rescued Yata with his own hands years ago, dragging him out of the slums and showing him the freedom of the skies.

“You’re up late.” Mikoto’s voice was a quiet rumble, not angry, just commenting.

“Y-yeah…” Yata rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Just…getting ready for Anna’s ceremony? Everything’s gotta be perfect, right?”

Mikoto shrugged, bringing the pipe up to his lips. Reddish-gray smoke curled through the air, a small light in the middle of the darkness.

“Heard you got into a fight with Yamaguchi’s faction again.”

“That's...” Yata looked down at his feet, scuffing his sandals in the dirt.

“’S not my business.” Mikoto shrugged again, calm. “If those guys wanna go, they can go. I won’t make ‘em stay, neither will Anna.”

“Yeah, but…” Yata shook his head, something clawing at the pit of his stomach. “But what’ll we do if everyone leaves? They were saying — they keep saying Homra’s _over!_ What the hell? You let them be part of our flock and they’re gonna abandon it just because we’re getting a new head? Don’t they want to support Anna?”

“Yata.” Mikoto took a step closer to him and Yata froze, head down, fists still clenched tight and fingers digging into his palms.

“I know…I’m not really the kinda guy Anna needs in the new Homra,” Yata said quietly. “I know I'm...I'm not gonna fit in anymore, right? It's not like a Diviner's flock is gonna need an idiot like me...but—but I thought we were _family,_ weren't we? I mean...if everyone's just gonna leave and Homra changes, where do I fit? Where do I...”

“ _Yata._ ” Mikoto rarely raised his voice but there was a definite emphasis to his name that made Yata pause. “Why do you want those guys to stay so bad? You don’t get along with ‘em, right?”

“H-huh?” Yata stuttered out, thrown off track, and then he shook his head. “I guess....I mean...I don't like that bastard at all, but....”

“So let them leave.” Mikoto blew out smoke again. “Homra’s not the kinda flock they want, they’re free to go. Anyone is. Had Kusanagi let everyone know earlier…you were already gone, huh?”

“Let everyone know?” Yata repeated blankly.

“That anyone who wants out, is out.” Mikoto was standing almost side by side with him now, and Yata froze as a strong hand placed itself gently on his head. “You wanna go?”

Of course he didn't. But he had to, he knew that. There wasn't a place for him here. The only place he had left was with Fushimi, the only place where he was still _needed._ But even so, when Mikoto asked him so plainly what he _wanted_...

“No.” Yata shook his head desperately, and his face felt wet. Irritably he wiped at his cheeks with a fist, feeling like a stupid crying kid again. “Mikoto-san…Homra’s my home! Homra’s been everything I…and I know I’m not that smart, right, I’m kind of an idiot sometimes and Anna’s gonna need advisers and seers and shit and I’m not any of that, so there’s not much I can do…”

Mikoto sighed heavily and Yata trailed off, falling silent.

“Anna…” Mikoto shook his head. “That kid’s strong, but she needs someone to support her too. That’s the thing with Kings — we’re supposed to be the backbone of the flock. But we can’t do shit without a heart and a pair of wings. That’s what the rest of you guys are for.” He gave a slight laugh. “That fox said in old tribes the King left the flock after being replaced. I told him he talks too much. As long as that kid needs me, I’m here. You make your own decision.”

The hand removed itself from Yata’s head and there was the sound of rustling wings as Mikoto walked on past him back towards the upper peaks, where Mikoto’s own nest was.

“Mikoto-san!” Yata took a few steps forward and Mikoto turned, looking at him. “I…I don’t want Homra to break. I want to hold us together, the way we’ve always been!”

His throat felt raw, the words burning as they came out of his mouth, and his eyes burned too, hotter than Mikoto's flames.

“You wanna hold everybody?” Mikoto said plainly, sighing. “Listen, Yata. Those guys aren’t Homra. I’m not either. You gotta make your own choice what Homra means to you. But if you wanna ask someone what Homra _should_ be, ask Anna.”

With that he turned away again, smoke wafting behind him like the trail of a ghost.

“Mikoto-san...!” Yata reached a hand out to him as if to stop him but his feet couldn't seem to move. There was another soft rustling sound and he saw Mikoto look down and murmur something, a strangely gentle smile on his face as a small white figure slipped past him to stand facing Yata.

“Misaki.” 

“Anna…” Yata felt the lump building in his throat again as he stared at her. _I haven’t asked her at all, have I?_ The realization was so simple and sudden that he felt like an idiot for not having considered it sooner. But he’d thought Anna would feel the same way he did — and he thought Mikoto would have too, would have been just as fired up as Yata to keep everyone together. But Mikoto didn’t even seem to care if those guys left — instead Mikoto had been focusing on what he could do for Anna, to stay and be her support. 

“Anna...I'm sorry.” Yata shook his head, trying to find a way to get the words out. “I didn't mean – I know you're gonna be a great King. And I want...I wanna support you, and do whatever I can but – but if it's not enough, I--”

“Misaki.” Anna's touch against his wings was light but it made a jolt run through his body and suddenly it felt like he could breathe again, as if her presence there beside him was enough to calm him. Yata looked down and Anna met his gaze, steady eyes and a quiet smile on her face. “Misaki doesn't have to stay. But Homra will still be here. Even if some leave, Homra remains.”

“You won't need me.” The words were so soft Yata wasn't even certain if he'd spoken them out loud until Anna opened her mouth to reply –  or maybe he really hadn't spoken them, and she'd understood anyway. Anna had always been like that.

“Homra is made up of everyone,” Anna said, her face small and determined. “Izumo and Mikoto, Tatara...Misaki too. Like a wing. You can fly without all the feathers. But every feather is needed.”

“But...a Diviner's flock is different, right? I know I'm kind of an idiot, Anna. I can't really advise you or be a healer or—or a seer, or anything like that...”

“That's fine.” Anna shook her head, taking both his hands in her small white ones. “It doesn't matter if Misaki can't heal, or give advice. You're still needed. Because Misaki has always been a warm person. A King is only the head of the flock. Everyone else takes care of the rest. Misaki...is like Homra's heart. So there is always a place here. For Misaki, there's always been a place.”

“Anna...” Yata could feel his heart beating fast now, fluttering in his chest, torn between hope and what he had thought was the truth all this time, the place that he wanted to be and the place he'd been certain was long gone. But Anna's words had been filled with absolute conviction, and she was staring at him as if she could see everything that had been in his head.

Or perhaps she really had seen it all, Yata realized. Anna was a Diviner. Perhaps she had known, all this time, how he'd felt, and had done her best to let him know that he was still a part of Homra, would always be part of Homra. And still Yata had made his own assumptions anyway, without understanding her at all.

“I’m an idiot, huh?” Yata murmured quietly. 

“Misaki is, sometimes.”

“Y-you don't have to agree so quickly, Anna!” Yata sputtered and Anna laughed, the sound clear and light and suddenly it felt as if all that weight that had been dragging Yata down was sliding off him like water after the rain had passed. Anna squeezed his hand and Yata knelt down so that he could look at her face to face, sheepishly running a hand through his hair.

“What will you do?” Anna asked him plainly, and Yata closed his eyes and took a breath.

“I...I want to stay here.” He really did, more than anything. Even if it was different, he would figure something out. He'd thought they were all leaving him behind, when really all this time he'd been the one hanging back for fear of change. He’d even been thinking of _running away,_ joining Fushimi—

“Fushimi.” Yata straightened and Anna cocked her head curiously.

“Fushimi?” She repeated the word as if there was something delicate in it, like a glass jar filled with marbles that would shatter if she hit the syllables too hard.

“A-ah, nothing, he's...” Yata paused, a little flustered. “He's...a friend of mine. Hey, Anna?”

“Hmm?”

“If I...brought someone in, someone who's not a part of Homra...a gloomy guy who might even be a human, would there be a place for him too?” Yata couldn't stop the small fond smile on his face. “Fushimi's...he's not a guy I can leave alone. I'm sure he'll be able to fit here too, so...”

“Misaki's friend is always welcome.” Anna's words were reassuring but her expression was slightly scrunched up, curious, as if she was stretching for something just out of reach. 

“Great!” Yata stood up, shaking out his feathers, letting the last weight fall from his back. “I'm gonna bring him here tomorrow, all right? It might take a while because that guy's stubborn, but...”

“Misaki.” Anna's quiet voice stopped him. “Be careful.”

“Eh?” Yata blinked. “Anna...hey, is something wrong? Do you feel sick, or...” His stomach dropped suddenly. “Do you—is there something wrong with Fushimi, did you see something?”

Anna shook her head, her face still slightly pinched in thought.

“....String, all over Misaki's wings. And a fog that I can't see through. A pool of water. Something taken, that can't be given back.” Her eyes were half-closed now, her voice a lulling chant that made Yata feel almost hazy, as if the forest around them had been filled by mist. Anna's wings were half spread, fine white feathers ruffling in the wind, and her eyes were dark red pools. “An obstruction, keeping me out. But there's danger. Misaki is covered in it completely, and so is that person who is important to you.”

“Is Fushimi in danger?” Despite the long day and his own weariness Yata found himself spreading his wings, already wondering how long it would take him to reach Fushimi's island if he left now.

“No. The storm is still building. It hasn't broken yet.”

“Then he's safe.” Despite that Yata still couldn't feel completely relieved. “If I bring him here though it'll be okay, right? Homra will protect him?”

“Misaki's friend is always welcome.” Anna's eyes still seemed far away. “If there is something Homra can do for him, we will.”

“Thanks, Anna.” Yata smiled at her. “Not just for letting me bring Fushimi here. For—for everything.”

“Misaki should get some sleep.” Anna tugged on his sleeve a little and Yata nodded.

“You too. Do you want me to take you to the nesting area?”

“It's fine.” Anna shook her head. “Mikoto is coming back for me.”

“Then...good night, Anna.” Yata waved a little at her as he spread his wings again and made his way towards the nesting area, his body somehow lighter than it had been in weeks. It felt like he was back to normal again, comfortable in a way he had only felt recently in the times he was with Fushimi.

_Fushimi._ Yata found himself glancing back over his shoulder as if he could feel Fushimi calling him again. He supposed Fushimi wouldn't be happy, about Yata having changed their plans already. He was always complaining after all, about how he didn't need a flock and how tengu were stupid and smelly. But there was no way Yata could just leave him on that island forever, bringing him food to make sure he didn't starve and binding the wounds that Fushimi didn't seem to have any interest in taking care of by himself. Yata couldn't leave Homra either, he knew that now. This was his home.

But even despite that, even though Yata knew it was weird just thinking it, he almost felt like he and Fushimi _fit,_ somehow. Like he could feel comfortable when he and Fushimi talked, like even if he said something stupid Fushimi would tell him and not sugarcoat it or give him an insincere compliment. With Fushimi in Homra too, it would be like they both had a real place again.

_I’ll ask him tomorrow night,_ Yata decided, yawning a little as he made his way to his own nest. He would have to talk to Kusanagi in the morning too, apologize for what he'd done earlier. If Yamaguchi was still around Yata would talk to him too, tell him that Yata didn't care if he left but that Yata was staying no matter what and that any tengu who wasn't brave enough to see the kind of flock that Anna would create didn't deserve to be a part of it either. Then he would go and see Fushimi and talk to him, and bring him home.

Tomorrow _._

—

The sun was bright in the sky and the wind was warm and thin, enough so that Yata had to flap his wings extra hard to keep from dipping below the Third Strata. Everything looked too bright and a little hazy, and somehow it was hard to get his bearings with the sun shining down. He’d been visiting the island nearly every night for almost a moon cycle and yet it seemed twice as hard to find in the daylight, even though he could finally see his way clearly.

Yata bit his lip, more than a little nervous as he scanned the clouds below for the familiar shape of Fushimi's island. He figured Fushimi was probably going to be annoyed with him – Yata had missed their promised meeting after all, even though he'd been so determined the night before to go speak with Fushimi and convince him to come back to Homra. He'd been antsy about it all day too, barely able to wait for moonrise. That was when Totsuka had flapped down beside him and asked Yata if he wanted to join some of them for a farewell party of sorts for Mikoto. It wasn’t an _actual_ farewell party, of course, though Yata had heard from Kusanagi that Mikoto’s comment the night before about Kings leaving the flock after stepping down was generally true. But Mikoto was leaving in a way, going from their King to just another member of the flock, from the spine to another bone in the wings keeping the body aloft, and apparently quite a few of the members wanted to see him off.

It was also, Yata suspected, something of a ‘good riddance’ party to Yamaguchi and his faction. They had left Homra while everyone was sleeping, simply packing up their belongings and disappearing without a word. Yata’s initial instinct had been to go after them, especially after he’d seen the quiet resignation in Anna’s eyes, but then she had looked up at him and shook her head, reaching for his hand.

Yamaguchi and his people weren’t the only ones who had left, for that matter. Yata had been so wrapped up in his own troubles that he’d missed how many members of the flock had simply slipped out during the night and never returned, and part of Yata wondered if Anna had been worrying about him every time he flew off to meet Fushimi. That was the other reason he’d agreed to go to the party even though it had been so close to moonrise, despite his promise to Fushimi — it was clear that this party was something of a renewal, those of them remaining raising glasses of rice wine to the new Homra and pledging their loyalty one more time. Just like a pair of wings, as long as a few feathers remained Homra would still continue to take flight.

Even with all that, Yata's plan had still been unchanged: that as soon as the moon came out he would take his leave and go see Fushimi. He had no idea what the hell Totsuka had put in that wine but whatever it was it had ended up with Yata waking up the next morning hanging by his feet from a tree branch with Totsuka forcing some kind of dangerously hot ‘hangover cure’ medicine down his throat.

Yata knew he could have waited until tonight to go see Fushimi, the way he always did, but he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for missing their promised meeting. Especially considering how prickly Fushimi could get and how much Yata was asking of him in order to get him to come to Homra, this was just going to make things twice as hard. And if Yata was going to apologize it would be better to do it as soon as he could, right? Sure, Fushimi would probably complain about being woken up – seriously, Yata was starting to think whatever the guy was it had to be something nocturnal – and he'd probably try to act like he didn't care that Yata hadn't showed, but Yata figured once he explained everything Fushimi would definitely understand and would forgive him, even if he made Yata apologize for it on his knees.

Something dark loomed in the distance and Yata spread his wings to gain some altitude. As he got closer the clouds seemed to grow thicker, like mist, but he could just make out the sloping hill and the torii gate.

“Finally!” Yata landed neatly on the gate, staring down the hill. “Hey, Fushimi! You there?”

There was no reply, and Yata jumped down onto the ground. His brows furrowed as he stared down the hill – the old steps were definitely there, the ones he’d seen Fushimi walk down and up so many times, but they were even more worn than Yata remembered, the stone cracked and broken entirely in places, grass and plants growing through shattered pieces of stone. The gate seemed in a bit worse condition too, the paint entirely scraped away and mold growing up the sides. The pool that always seemed so fathomless and clear in the night sky was oddly clouded as well, the water murky and thick like mud. The wind that blew past him felt old and stale, and Yata shivered a little, suddenly cold to the wingtips.

“But this is definitely the place…” Yata spread his wings and flew down the hill, landing on the ground where all the stone statues were. There were significantly less of them than before and the ones remaining were cracked and broken. The offering stone where he and Fushimi often sat side by side was sliced in two, and there were small scratches in the stone as if a wild animal had clawed at it. Yata's wings rustled, nervous, his eyes staring around blankly as if he’d come to a place he’d never been before. The mist that had been hovering in the air as he flew seemed to have grown thicker around the island, and there was no sound at all except for Yata's own footfalls and the dusty shake of wind through his feathers.

“Fushimi!” Yata tried calling again, if only to break the eerie silence. “Hey, where are you, you stupid human?”

There was no answer, and Yata took a step forward towards where he knew the forest was. The trees looked strangely white and ghostly in the light, and it made Yata shudder.

In the middle of the silence he suddenly heard a soft, almost mournful sound that made him stop in his tracks. It sounded like a bird, hollow and high-pitched, and Yata swallowed hard.

“Fushimi? Is that you? H-hey, stop playing around!” Yata rubbed at his arms, feeling cold as he took a step back. Maybe he really was in the wrong place, this couldn’t be Fushimi’s island after all…

His foot brushed against something and Yata looked down. Something was glowing softly by his feet, a tiny spot of warmth that cut through the cold. Yata bent down to retrieve it, hands closing around smooth glass beads, and Yata felt his stomach drop.

It was his bracelet. The one he’d given to Fushimi.

“Fushimi!” Yata felt a spike of panic shoot through him as he yelled, not caring who — or what — heard him. “Hey, where are you?”

The bird song split the air again, closer this time, and Yata's fingers toyed nervously with the bracelet before carefully placing it inside his pocket. The mist seemed to be getting darker and despite the fact that he could see the sun high up above in the sky there were dark clouds beginning to gather around the steps.

_Dark clouds…bird’s cry…_ It reminded him of something he knew he’d heard, a story Totsuka might have told him…

The realization hit and Yata scrambled backwards just in time as something cut through the air, sharp claws just grazing the tips of his wings as Yata dived out of the way and landed hard in the grass.

The dark clouds were _moving_ now, twisted and coiling as they parted, and a hulking shadow stepped forward, mouth open and head moving back and forth as if searching for prey. Its face was black, skin tight like leather with glowing red eyes that darted this way and that, and the face was surrounded by a halo of coarse white hair. Its limbs were the limbs of a strong cat, brightly colored and striped, and the tail that waved behind it was green and scaled, a serpent’s face whipping around to face Yata’s position.

_Nue._ Yata had heard stories about them from Totsuka, tales of them appearing and dragging unwise Kings to their doom, of them terrorizing ancient human emperors in old times. But Yata had never seen one up close, and from Totsuka’s stories he’d never expected to see one this _big_ — it was at least twice his size and its strongly muscled legs were almost as thick as the tree trunks themselves. Its mouth opened, revealing row upon row of sharp fangs as it gave the lonesome bird call again.

“Wh-what the hell?” Yata pulled himself to his feet, digging helplessly in his pack for the wooden spoon. The nue had clearly noticed him, taking a slow step forward, entire body coiled as if to attack, and the clouds gathered around it as if the atmosphere itself was the creature’s servant. 

_Where did it even come from?_ Yata wondered, eyes never leaving the beast. _There’s no way something that big could hide in an island this small! Unless it sleeps at night? And that’s why Fushimi never wants to meet in the day…_

If that was the case, then maybe Fushimi was hiding somewhere safe, some secret cavern he’d never shown to Yata, that he specifically used to keep out of the nue’s way during the daytime? Yata took another step back, wings opening. He didn’t like the idea of running away, but on the other hand the nue was huge and he didn’t even know how the hell someone was supposed to fight one. Was he supposed to lop off its head or would it just grow back? Yata shook his head, hand closing over the wooden spoon. He pulled it out, lengthening it into a pole and holding it out in front of him defensively as he bit his lip.

He had to wait until sundown and come back. If Fushimi was here, Yata could ask him what the hell was up with this shitty island and then Yata was dragging him back to Home Nest whether Fushimi wanted to go or not. And if he couldn’t find Fushimi…

The bracelet felt heavy in his pocket and Yata felt something stinging at his eyes. If he couldn’t find Fushimi he would be back anyway, in the daytime, with as many members of the flock as he could convince to come, and they would teach the nue what happened when you mess with someone under the protection of Homra.

Yata took another step back and the nue suddenly leapt forward, claws flashing out. Yata barely managed to block the strike with his weapon, grimacing at the sound of claws slicing through wood, and in moments he was in the air, flying straight up as fast as his wings would go. He felt the rush of wind as the nue’s claws grazed the feathers at the tips of his wings but Yata didn’t dare look down until the island was only a dark speck beneath him. He could still see the small cluster of black clouds but there didn’t seem to be any sign that the beast had followed him, and Yata flew in a slow circle before whirling and heading back towards home.

_Fushimi…_ Yata touched a hand to bracelet in his pocket. 

“You better not be dead, you asshole.” His throat felt dry and the words came out as nothing more than a croak, hands clenching. There was no way, right? Fushimi was smart. If a monster like that was on the island Fushimi would definitely know how to deal with it. He had to be safe.

He had to be.

—

Yata’s heart was pounding so hard it made him feel almost dizzy as he landed on the familiar torii gate, staring down at the darkened grass below.

He had barely been able to concentrate on helping with the final preparations for Anna’s ceremony, mind far away and worries twisting in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t mentioned the nue to anyone, part of him worried that he wouldn’t be allowed to return to the island alone once night fell if there was any possibility of danger. While Yata wouldn’t mind a bit of back up if the nue really was wandering around at night, he also suspected that Fushimi wouldn’t show his face either if Yata brought someone along and right now the only thing in Yata’s mind was making certain that Fushimi was still alive.

The island looked… _normal_ , now, or as normal as it usually got. The mist that had hung heavy over the entire place was gone and Yata could see the stars and the red moon above clearly. The steps were back to normal too, old and weathered but still largely intact. It was as if the morning had been some kind of illusion, a mirror image that wasn’t quite the same as the reality that Yata was so used to.

“…Fushimi?” Yata called out quietly, not certain if he was expecting an answer or not. He jumped down from the gate and took a step forward towards the hill, rubbing at his arms as if to ward away the chill that existed only in his mind.

“Go away.” The voice was cold and sullen, and Yata had never been so happy to hear it. He whirled, not able to stop the relief that flooded through him as he spotted Fushimi leaning against one of the rocks by the reflective pool.

“Fushimi!” Yata could feel the stupid grin on his face and didn’t care. “You’re alive! Do you know how worried I was, you stupid bastard? I thought you were—”

“You didn’t come yesterday.” Fushimi’s voice was sharp and final. “You said you would come back, _Misaki.”_

There was a small shock along Yata’s skin, something like pain when Fushimi spoke his name, but Yata shrugged it off and took a step towards him, holding out the bracelet.

“Y-yeah, I know, sorry about that.” Yata laughed sheepishly. “I got caught up in some Homra stuff…I talked to King and he gave me some stuff to think about that made me feel like I understand things a lot more, you know? B-but anyway! I did come back earlier, what the hell is wrong with this island?”

“Earlier.” Fushimi repeated and his eyes narrowed, letting Yata drop the bracelet into his open palm. “You came back during the day.”

“Well, yeah!” Yata said. “I told you I’d come back, right?”

“At _night.”_ There was a bitterness in Fushimi’s voice that Yata couldn’t quite understand. Sure he’d missed their promised meeting but he’d still come back later on. That was what mattered, that he’d come back and found Fushimi alive and okay. “I told you not to come here once the sun was out.”

“I was _trying_ to keep my promise, asshole!” Yata shot back. “A-and anyway, Fushimi! What the hell is with that _thing_ in the day? I almost got killed and I was—I found the bracelet I gave you in the grass, and I thought maybe you’d been—been—”

“Thing?” Fushimi repeated, face suddenly painted with shadows. A slow smile was twisting across his face. “You saw the nue.”

“It was kinda hard to miss, that thing’s huge!” Yata reached for Fushimi, who immediately stepped back out of range. “We need to get you out of here, Fushimi. How the hell have you managed to not get eaten already?”

“I don’t need you to come rescue me from the big bad monster, _Misaki.”_ Fushimi turned as if to walk away. “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.” Yata jumped into the air, flying over Fushimi’s head to land neatly in Fushimi’s path. He took a step forward, putting a hand on Fushimi’s shoulder. “You’ve seen that thing, right, Fushimi? It’s huge! Is—is that what hurt you the other night? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t touch me.” Fushimi shrugged his hand off, glaring. “You weren’t here last night, so I don’t see anything I need to talk to you about.”

“I told you, I was—”

“Busy with _Homra?”_ Fushimi laughed. “Of course. Weren’t you ready to break ranks just the other night? You’re so easy to persuade, _Misaki.”_

“It’s not that!” Yata said. “I was…yeah, I was confused about some stuff. I thought everything was gonna change and I would be left behind. But it’s not like that. King said—”

“Of course. Your precious King.” Fushimi crossed his arms. “What else should I expect from tengu, besides groveling at the feet of whatever creature they feel like calling a King?”

“Fushimi…” Yata felt irritation well up and tried to keep it down. “Hey, I did come back though, didn’t I? I came to get you out of here. You’ll be safe at Home Nest, so..”

“I’m not going anywhere. Especially not to a tengu nest, where I can sit and watch you fawn over your King like a worthless dog.” Fushimi’s voice had gone slightly higher pitched, thick with mockery, and for a moment it felt like Yata was almost looking at a stranger. “I should have known better, right? You’ve made me as stupid as you, Misaki.”

“Look, Fushimi, I get you’re upset, okay?” Yata could hear the slight tinge of desperation in his own tone and didn’t care. He had to convince Fushimi that it wasn’t safe here, before it was too late. “Sorry I couldn’t make it before sunrise, but look! There’s a fucking _monster_ on this island, and you’re just a human! You’ll get killed if you don’t stop being so stubborn and come with me!”

“A monster? Is that it?” Fushimi laughed then, not the quiet hesitant laugh Yata had heard only a handful of times but something wilder, colder, that sent chills down Yata’s spine. The moonlight that reflected off the grass didn’t seem to hit Fushimi at all, leaving him cloaked in shadows. “You’re right, Misaki. There’s a monster here, that’s going to devour me whole, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. I was an idiot to think you would even try.”

“What…?” Yata shook his head. “That’s—you’re joking, right, Fushimi? Wait, did someone leave you here? As like a — a sacrifice, or something? You don’t have to stay and get eaten by that thing, I can—”

“You can’t do anything, Misaki.” Fushimi stalked forward, just along the edges of the dark pool. “You can’t help me. You can’t _save_ me. I’m tired of your stupid tengu act, your ridiculous _pride._ Pride is meaningless, Misaki. Everything gets devoured in the end, and stupid things like pride won’t mean a thing when the time comes for you to be torn apart.”

“Listen, asshole, I’m trying to save your life!” Yata felt a burst of frustration. It should be an easy choice, shouldn’t it? Stay and be torn apart, or leave and be with Yata, safe at Homra's nest. “Do you _want_ to get eaten by that thing? There’s a monster on this fucking island and you just—”

“That’s right. Misaki. There’s a monster here, and you’ve been blind to it all this time.” Fushimi laughed, head thrown back, starlight reflected almost feverishly in his eyes. “It was fun playing with you for a while, but everyone has to grow up and leave their toys behind some time. Or did you really think you could take me back to your nest? Let me hear all the stupid tengu, throwing about their names like the trusting idiot birds you are, too blind to see the power you’re all throwing away. Maybe I could learn the name of your precious _King,_ how about that? Take it in my hands, control it, _tear it apart—”_

“You wouldn’t dare!” Yata’s body moved almost on its own, grabbing Fushimi roughly by the collar, holding him just over the pool. “What the hell? You can’t—”

“Can't what? You’re too trusting, thinking you were safe all this time.” Fushimi laughed again, the white moon reflected clearly in the water behind him.

_Wait…the_ white _moon…?_ Yata glanced up sharply. The full red moon was still bright in the sky above, but the moon reflected on the water was a clear white.

“What…?” Yata’s grip loosened on Fushimi’s collar and he found himself stepping forward, staring at the water.

“So you finally noticed.” Fushimi’s voice was flat now, emotionless, as he pushed Yata’s hand away and came to stand beside him. “Do you see it now, _Misaki?”_

There was another reflection in the water, where Fushimi stood, and Yata felt his throat go dry.

Yata’s own figure was there, reflected clearly, and then the stars and the unnatural moon. And beside him, where Fushimi’s reflection should have been…

The nue, all sharp teeth and glowing eyes, staring back at him.

“W-what…?” Yata stumbled backwards, away from the water, away from Fushimi who had begun to laugh again.

“I told you, Misaki. _Monsters.”_ He held up the bracelet Yata had given him in one hand, pulling at it with the other until it snapped, beads falling onto the grass. “It’s a shame you were too fast for me this morning. I hear tengu are delicious, after all.”

“You—you were—no way!” Yata shook his head. “It’s—it’s some kind of trick, right, Fushimi? Or a curse? You’re not really—”

“A monster? Of course I am. Just like you, and like everything else in this worthless world.” Fushimi shook his head, a crooked smile on his face. “A curse, you say? Of course it is. This whole place is cursed. It's been cursed from the moment you came here. A place that can only be found by those with wakeful minds if they know the way, and have been here before.”

“But I haven't—” Yata started and Fushimi cut him off sharply.

“Haven't you?” Fushimi was staring at him intently, a look in his eyes that Yata couldn't place – holding breath in the air, waiting for an answer, like a glass perched on the edge of a table.

“I haven't.” He only said the truth, but Yata _felt_ the glass break as Fushimi's eyes went dark. 

“Of course idiots will always find a way. You only made it here because you fell into the water, something else's prey. The same as a stupid animal with no real thoughts in its mind but escape.” Fushimi clicked his tongue. “The only reason this place even exists is because of the blood moon. Once the moon passes back to white this place will fade into shadows again and I’ll go back to sleep for another decade until the next moon. Of course, if I were to find something — or _someone_ — to take my place I can stop that. Every spell has a loophole, after all. And to think, you were foolish enough to believe in it…our _friendship.”_

“That’s…” Yata tried to object again but his voice felt stuck in his throat, choked by words he couldn't say.

“A stronger curse needs a better sacrifice.” Fushimi threw back his head and laughed, as if even the stars above were a splendid joke that only he could understand. “I needed you to really _believe_ it. So when I manipulated that name of yours it would be an even stronger magic, and finally get me off this gods-cursed island. It was bad luck from the moment you landed here. And you were too much of a fool to even see it.”

“You…what the hell?” Yata’s hands clenched into fists and Fushimi smirked.

“It was really pathetic, you know. Having to pretend to be friends with a stinking tengu. The whole time I kept reminding myself that at least I would get some use out of you eventually. And then you had to ruin things by showing up early before I was done preparing the sacrifice ritual.” He turned abruptly with a dismissive wave in Yata’s direction. “You can go. I don’t have any more use for you now.”

There was a sound almost like something snapping in Yata’s ears, more felt than heard, and his entire body shuddered momentarily as he stumbled to his feet.

“Fushimi…” Yata didn’t know what to do, what to say. His heart was beating fast, anger and confusion sweeping through him.

“The sun will be up soon. _Go away,_ Misaki.”

The words were sharp and final and hit him like a slap to the face, the force it making his wings spread all on their own, and Yata was in the air before he knew it. Fushimi was nothing but a speck beneath him, growing smaller and smaller as Yata flew higher into the sky, wind rushing past him and blood pounding in his ears.

_It can’t be true._ He was already flying towards home, head spinning. _It can't_ be. But he didn't know how else to explain what he'd just seen, what Fushimi had just told him. That all this time, everything that Yata had thought was between them was all a lie, from the very beginning.

The memory of that reflection in the water haunted him, and Yata knew what his own two eyes had seen. He clenched a fist.

_Fushimi, you asshole…I hope I never see you again._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A timely update this time~ Please enjoy the last chapter, and thank you to everyone for bearing with my slow update schedule :D

“ _I’ll come back for you, all right?”_

“ _You can’t, Misaki.”_

_The moon cast long shadows on the ground and Yata glanced back at the figure sitting on the rock. The small glowing blue gem on the bracelet gleamed softly, a light on the dark. Yata had held onto that wrist all the way through the forest, past danger that he knew he couldn't even fully grasp the shape of. They had emerged from the dark of the trees largely unscathed in the end, aside from a few small scratches and cuts. There was nothing but open sky between them now, and even so Yata felt as if he wanted to reach out again, keep hold of that thin wrist and make sure this person stayed in the light._

“ _Why not?”_

“ _You saw him. That guy.” Hunched shoulders, fingers playing with the shining beads. “Everything that’s mine gets…”_

“ _Gets…?” Yata prompted but his companion looked away instead, biting his lip._

“ _It’ll all be destroyed. He’ll be here soon, and he won’t—you can’t stay with me.”_

“ _But…aren’t we friends?” Yata reached out a hand, fingers spread wide. “I want to play with you more!”_

“ _Friends…” A shake of the head. “I don’t have any friends.”_

“ _Yeah you do! I’m your friend!” Perfectly convinced, and wide eyes stared back at him. “If there’s a bad person after you I’ll rescue you! I’ll take you super far away and he won’t ever find you!”_

“ _Take me far away…” There was something wistful in that tone that made Yata almost want to cry even though he wasn’t certain of the reason why. “You can’t. He…has something that’s mine. I can’t leave without it.”_

“ _Then we’ll get it back! I know lots of good tricks for finding things. And if it’s you and me we can do anything!” Yata believed it completely. Hadn’t they made it the whole way through the forest together, made it safely away from the uwabami and hidden from the scary man with the shadowy monsters? If it was the two of them, Yata was certain they could take on anyone, no matter if they were small and weak. Together, they were strong._

“ _You can’t. Even if it’s us…it’ll all break.”_

_What will break? Yata was confused but didn’t ask, because he wasn’t sure he’d get an answer._

“ _But if I leave we might not see each other again.” The idea made Yata scrunch up his nose. Just when he’d found a friend, and now…_

_There was a sound from above them, wind whistling by, and they both looked up. A figure could be seen silhouetted against the moon, wide feathery wings and familiar braided hair._

“ _Mama!” Yata waved his hands and wondered if she could see him even in the dark._

“ _Here.” The bracelet was held out to him and Yata looked at it curiously. “She can see you when the stone shines.”_

“ _But isn’t it yours?”_

“ _Yeah, but…” Kicking at the dirt. “It’s not important. He’ll break it eventually anyway. So you keep it.”_

“ _All right…” Yata held out his hands and the bracelet was dropped into his open palms. A bright smile lit up his face as he held it close, the gem glowing blue against his skin. “It’s pretty! The color’s like your eyes.”_

_The blue eyes widened again and Yata reached for his hand._

_There was another gust of wind and Yata looked up, waving the bracelet in the air. He could see his mother’s shadow stop and then turn, arrowing straight towards him._

“ _Misaki.” Yata heard the voice behind him, soft and sure. “My name — my_ true _name is —”_

“ _Look, she saw us! I’m sure if Mama’s here we can—” Yata whirled back to look at his friend, hand still outstretched, but where his companion had been there was only a small pile of leaves. “H-hey, where…”_

_Before he could say anything more his mother’s wings folded around him and he was pulled into her arms, her head against his and a grateful sigh in his ear._

“ _Misaki….!”_

–

“Misaki. Misaki.”

The soft but insistent voice dragged him from his dream and Yata’s eyes blinked sluggishly as he tried to remember where he was.

“I’m up, I’m up…” He shook his head, trying to erase the remnants of the dream that he could still feel lingering on the edge of his mind. Unconsciously one hand touched his bare wrist and a different memory came rushing back, blue stones falling into the grass and a shadow in the water. Yata’s face twisted in a grimace as he sat up, trying to stretch out his sore cramped wings. He’d fallen asleep in an awkward position against some of the taiko drums Totsuka had set up for the ceremony, wings draped carelessly around him, and there were flower petals in his hair.

Anna was staring back at him with an odd expression, her hair braided and plaited atop her head and decorated with flowers and kanzashi. The tips of her white wings had been dipped into some kind of gold dye that Kusanagi had received as a special offering and the red sigils that had been drawn on her forehead and cheeks stood out starkly against her white skin.

“A-Anna…” Yata sat up straight, swallowing a curse. “S-sorry, I fell asleep…” He laughed sheepishly, looking down at his hands.

It had been three days since he’d last gone to see Fushimi. He’d returned to Home Nest after their last talk angry and confused, going straight to his own nest and sleeping without a word to anyone. He’d spent the last few days throwing himself into the preparations for Anna’s ceremony, helping Totsuka and Kusanagi prepare everything while avoiding Anna herself, who seemed to be staring at him in concern every time he caught her eye. 

The ceremony had finally begun that evening, just as soon as the sun had set, and per tradition was to last until sunrise when Mikoto would officially hand over control of Homra to Anna. Though the moon was still visible above the sky had lightened considerably since Yata last remembered looking, and it was clear that he had been asleep for several hours when he should have been celebrating with everyone else.

“Misaki has been tired lately.” Anna sounded concerned and Yata gave her a shaky smile.

“Well, we’ve been real busy and…and it’s not just me, Kusanagi-san’s been working hard, and Totsuka-san too, so I can’t slack off!” He laughed and it sounded painful and fake to his own ears. There was a small jangling of jewelry as Anna reached out and placed a hand on Yata’s wrist.

“Misaki is troubled.” Her eyes were half closed and her hands pressed together as if rolling dough, fingers entwined, white skin along white skin, and then a small hint of red as a tiny marble formed in her palm. She held it up to her eyes and Yata had to stop himself from stepping back as she turned her gaze on him. “Something painful happened?”

“Anna, you don’t have to—” Yata started to protest and Anna lowered the marble, staring at him with an open expression.

“Tatara says if something hurts you should share it with others,” she said quietly. “So it doesn’t grow big inside your chest, like a walnut that becomes a tree.”

“Ah…” Yata’s expression shifted, eyes lowered and his mouth a thin wavering line. “It’s—I thought somebody was my friend but they were lying to me all this time. Or…I guess he was? I mean — we haven’t known each other long but it felt like — like I _should_ know him? Or like we’d been friends forever even though we only talked a little. He always acted like a jerk but then sometimes he’d smile at me, you know? And I felt proud because _I_ made that guy smile. So I don’t get it. He couldn’t have meant that he was — but then what the hell was he talking about? If he’s in trouble I could help... but that guy isn’t the type who asks for help when he needs it.” Yata clenched a fist. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Misaki knows.” Anna’s hands closed over Yata’s fist, gentle fingers on taut skin. “That person has something important of Misaki’s, right?”

“Wait, you mean…my name? You could tell that?”

“Not that.” Anna shook her head. “He gave it back. Misaki’s been missing part of it since the first quarter moon. But now it's whole again.”

“He…gave it back to me?” That didn’t make any sense either. From what Fushimi had said, and from what he and that asshole Munakata had shown, just holding Yata’s name would have been enough to control Yata any way he wanted. If Fushimi had really been planning something — trying to eat him, or toying with him — it didn’t make sense that he would give the name _back_ after everything.

“I can see it.” Anna held up the marble to her eye again. “Misaki’s name is whole. But the red string hasn’t faded. It connects here.” She touched a finger to his chest, above his heart. “A very old, almost forgotten feeling. But it remains there, strongly knotted. Tied to that person.”

“To…Anna, so—so you remember I told you about Fushimi, right?” Yata asked quietly.

“I saw a dream.” Anna moved the marble from palm to palm and it grew bigger with each passage of her hand until she needed both to hold it. “There was a name written on the moon. Someone was chasing after it and it kept shedding pieces and growing smaller, like a vegetable being cut. Finally that person’s hand managed to reach it, but it was too late. A monster rose up from the ground and swallowed the name and the moon. Without the moon there was only a long, long sleep. A red moon ate the sun, and the sun ate the moon, over and over. A sleeping child grew claws and teeth and tore at the earth, but he could not grasp what had been taken from him. That person cannot take back his own missing piece. It must be given.”

“I don’t get…” Yata’s voice trailed off as the memory of a familiar sullen voice seemed to echo in his ears, as clear as if Fushimi was right beside him. “ _There are things that are part of you, and that the world sinks into you. Your name, the wind blowing your face, the moon shining its light on you. If you lose it, you can’t be yourself anymore.”_

Of course. _Of course._ Yata felt like an idiot for not having figured it out on his own, from the moment he’d seen the reflection of the nue in the water of the pool.

Someone had taken Fushimi’s name.

“Anna!” Yata’s head shot up, face determined. “How do I get it back for him?” Anna closed her eyes, shaking her head.

“The words were written on the moon,” she said quietly. “That was all I saw. I hoped…Misaki might understand the rest.”

_The moon…?_ Yata’s mind flashed back to the dark pool again, to the white moon that had been reflected where a red one should be. _Then…is that where his name is? In the water?_

There was no way to be sure, but…it was the only idea he had, the only thing he could think of. If he could get Fushimi’s name back that would break whatever spell or curse had turned him into the nue, and then Yata could kick his ass for being such a stupid idiot who had to push Yata away instead of just fucking asking for help like a normal person.

“But how am I supposed to get the reflection of the moon out of the water?” Yata murmured to himself and Anna reached out and took his hands in hers, tugging him lightly so that found himself lowering down onto one knee.

“Misaki will find a way.” She leaned up, wings flapping a little to help keep her balance as she pressed her forehead against Yata’s. “Something precious was left behind. That person has been clinging to it all this time.” 

“Is it…okay?” Yata asked quietly. “I mean, it’s your induction ceremony, and…”

“If Misaki is needed there, you should go.” Anna smiled gently. “So you won’t have any regrets.”

“Right.” Yata gave her a shaky smile. “Thanks, Anna. I’ll be back soon, all right? And I’ll have that guy with me.”

Anna only nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face, and Yata finally turned away from her, spreading his wings. In moments he was in the sky again, flying towards the island whose location he already seemed to know by instinct, as if some beacon there was guiding him back like a lighthouse in a storm.

–

The sun hadn’t risen yet by the time Yata reached Fushimi’s island and as he circled the pool Yata could still see that white moon gleaming in the water, bright and full despite the way the actual sky above was starting to lighten.

_How do I get it out?_ Yata dipped a hand into the water just above the reflection of the moon. It rippled under his touch and there was a strange tingling feeling that spread throughout his body, as if he’d stepped inside a ringing bell, but once Yata raised his hand the water steadied and the reflection still remained, full and whole as always.

Yata glided low and then landed right at the edge of the water, staring down. The pool was deep and dark and it was impossible to tell how far down it went. Yata felt a surge of frustration — how the hell was he supposed to remove a reflection from the water? And even if he did, who knew if that really was where Fushimi’s name was hidden, or how Yata gave _that_ back. Fushimi had said it himself, hadn’t he, and Munakata after that: name magic wasn’t tengu magic. Even if Yata had been someone with powers like Totsuka or Anna, trapping a name was beyond him.

“Misaki. Didn’t I tell you never to come back?” A cold voice made him turn. Fushimi stood directly beneath the torii gate, arms crossed, an almost weary look on his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me, you asshole?” Yata snapped back. “It’s your name, right? That’s why you transformed. Something stole your name.”

A momentary look of surprise crossed Fushimi’s face before it twisted into a frown as he gave a harsh bark of laughter.

“So you figured it out? It’s not hard if you know how magic works, _Misaki.”_ Fushimi shrugged, taking a step forward. “This doesn't change anything. A sacrifice is still a sacrifice. Now that you’ve found out the game you’re no use to me anymore.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” Yata moved forward to meet him, refusing to lower his gaze. “I came to _save_ you, Fushimi.”

“Save _me?”_ Fushimi scoffed, shaking his head. “That was broken a long time ago, Misaki. Just like everything else. And you don’t even remember, do you? Even though to me it was the only good thing in the world. To you, it wasn’t even important enough for a memory.” He opened his hands then, and Yata saw the small familiar blue beads resting in Fushimi’s palm for just a moment before Fushimi tossed them away. “The sun is rising, Misaki. If you don’t want to be eaten, go away.”

“I’m not leaving,” Yata said firmly, bending down to pick up the fallen beads. They were still shining faintly and Yata's fingers clenched around them. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and I don’t care. You’re my friend and I’m going to save you whether you want me to or not.”

“ _But…aren’t we friends?”_ A soft whisper on the wind, something rising from the depths of his memory for just a moment and then it flew away again, drawn out by invisible fingers, and Yata couldn't recall when he'd said those words, who he'd said them to.

“You’re going to _die.”_ Fushimi’s voice was fierce and cold but there was an undercurrent of something like _desperation_ that was impossible for even Yata to miss. “I won’t leave so much as your bones behind, Misaki. I’m going to destroy it all on my own. Bad luck, everywhere. So get the hell out of here and forget about me. It’s what you do best, after all.’

“Why the hell are you giving up so easily?” Yata reached forward then, roughly grabbing onto Fushimi’s thin wrist and holding tight.

“Let go of me, Misaki!”

“I’m not giving up on us, Fushimi,” Yata stated. “Let me help you, okay? I know you’re a stupid stubborn jerk, but you’re _my_ stupid stubborn jerk and I want to save you. You know it’s time for our new King’s induction ceremony, right? And I left it. I left my flock during the most important time because right now there’s nothing that’s more important to _me_ than fixing whatever the fuck is wrong with you!”

“You’re too late.” Fushimi’s voice was like a funeral bell, thick and heavy as he tore his wrist from Yata’s grip with an almost supernatural strength. Mist suddenly seemed to be gathering close around them and there was something pale and translucent about Fushimi’s skin. “Too late, Misaki…you’re far far too late…”

And then Fushimi was swallowed up the clouds as the sun burst over the horizon and bathed the entire island in bright yellow light.

“Fushimi!” Yata choked on mist that suddenly clogged his lungs as if it were thick smoke, his entire line of vision obscured. Yata swore and spread his wings, flapping hard in order to create a wind strong enough to blow the mist away, at least enough that he could see where he was standing. In the half light of the morning he could see that the island had already begun to change, just as he’d noticed when he’d come here the first time in the sunlight: as the mist poured out over the terrain everything suddenly grew more cracked and worn, as if years of disuse were catching up to it all at once. There was no sign of Fushimi whatsoever but the clouds still hanging low around him told Yata that Fushimi was probably nearby — the nue Fushimi, at least, and Yata took a careful step back towards where he knew the pool had to be.

He needed to figure out a way to get Fushimi’s name out of the moon and the moon out of the water, he knew that much, but Yata had no idea how to do it. If he just reached his hand in now, in the light, would it come to him? Or…

The prospect of diving in made him bite his lip, recalling how he’d almost drowned the first time. Water was an opposing element for tengu, and swimming to the depths in search of something that might not even be reachable was a poor plan even by Yata’s admittedly thin standards.

A sound cut through the mist, the high lonely bird’s cry that Yata recognized immediately, and he barely took to the sky in time to avoid Fushimi’s claws as the nue jumped at him. Fushimi’s eyes were glowing red, staring at him as though he was nothing more than a piece of meat, than _prey._ They weren’t Fushimi’s eyes at all, and the thought had barely crossed Yata’s mind before Fushimi attacked again, the thick striped legs and sharp tiger claws scoring deep gashes in the ground where they just missed ripping through Yata’s limbs. He cursed to himself as he pulled the wooden spoon from where it was still strapped against his back, lengthening it into a staff just in time to parry another attack.

“Fushimi!” Yata tried desperately, staff still held up in a defensive position. “Hey! It’s me, you idiot! I’m trying to help you!”

There was the bird call again, echoing and haunted, and all of a sudden the mist started swirling around Yata fast and thick, all but pinning him inside. Yata swung his staff once to disperse it and then jumped into the air, settling on the worn torii gate out of reach of the nue.

The nue, which was now between him and the suddenly clouded pool.

_Now what?_ Yata thought, fingers clenching on the staff. He needed to get to the pool but he couldn’t do anything while defending himself from Fushimi, who was as fast and agile as he’d been the first time Yata had run into him, before Yata had known who the nue really was. He could try and lose Fushimi in the woods but Yata knew he couldn’t waste too much time on running around — he didn’t know how long it would take to retrieve Fushimi’s name and the possibility of being waylaid by who knew what else was hiding on this stupid island was high.

Suddenly the gate lurched and Yata gave an undignified squawk, clinging to the wood as he glanced downwards. Fushimi was slamming his body against the bottom of the gate, as if trying to bring it down. Another powerful slam was enough to make Yata lose his footing entirely and he opened his wings awkwardly as he half-flew, half-fell to the ground just along the slope of the hill. Fushimi was already approaching him, slow and predatory like a cat cornering a bird, and Yata couldn’t help but glance helplessly beyond him at where he knew the pool was.

He was being herded away and he didn’t know how to stop it. At this rate he would have to give up, and then Fushimi…

_No._ Yata’s hands tightened on his staff, teeth clenching. He didn’t even know why he was so determined — it wasn’t like they’d known each other long, and Fushimi had been in turns frustrating and annoying, mood swings and mocking words, and even in those few moments they’d connected Yata had always felt as if there was something… _missing,_ in their interactions, as if he was constantly stretching for something that was always dangling just out of reach. But even so he wanted to keep holding his hand out, wanted to grasp that invisible thing between him and Fushimi, wanted to talk to him more, to see him smile again, to make him laugh. If he retreated now, they might never see each other again.

A thick dark cloud suddenly descended on him from above, obscuring his vision, and it was only instinct that allowed Yata to sweep his staff up in time to block Fushimi’s next attack. As it was he still found himself sent reeling, again rolling down the hill and banging his knees against hard cracked stone. He had barely managed to get to his feet when Fushimi was there once more in front of him, eyes burning, not a single sign of recognition in the monstrous face, and even as Yata reached for his fallen staff he wasn’t sure if he could parry the next blow in time.

“Misaki!” He heard the familiar voice in his bones, almost, and the moment Yata looked up a sudden burst of flame lit up the dark mist surrounding him. Fushimi hissed and dived back, muscles taut and still clearly on the hunt, eyes never leaving Yata’s as Yata stumbled to his feet and followed the source of the flames with wide eyes. Through the thinning mist Yata was able to make out a handful of figures descending towards him.

“Mikoto-san!” He recognized the flame red wings instantly — Mikoto and Kusanagi, and half a dozen other Homra members flying towards him, landing between him and the now wary Fushimi.

_But…how?_ Yata’s throat felt dry even as his heart leapt with relief. _Fushimi said you couldn’t find the island without knowing where it is…_

“Misaki!” A rustle of beads and feathers and Anna landed beside him, a black fur stole wrapped around her shoulders. 

“Anna…it’s not safe here, what are you—”

“We came to help Misaki.” Anna’s face was tired but determined, and suddenly Yata remembered how she’d pressed her forehead against his before he left.

Anna was a Diviner, and Yata was part of her flock. Of course she would know where Yata was, even if that location was hidden from the eyes of every other person in the world.

“I don’t know what to do,” Yata admitted breathlessly, eyes not leaving the figures of Mikoto and the others as they kept Fushimi at bay. “I know his name has to be in the water, but…”

“It can only be retrieved by hands that are truly willing to reach for it.” The voice came from Anna’s coat and Yata nearly jumped at the sound. Now that she was beside him he could see that it wasn’t a fur stole at all around her shoulders but a thin wiry fox, nine tails waving even in this form.

“Reisi knows this magic,” Anna said by way of explanation, and Yata furrowed his brow.

“Willing to…what the hell does that mean?”

“If it is trapped in the water, you must dive in.” Munakata’s voice was calm, despite the chaos around them. “Unless you are too afraid, Yatagarasu-kun?”

“I’m not—” Yata shook his head, steeling himself. “Anna…make sure they don’t hurt Fushimi, okay?”

“Mmm.” Anna nodded, touching his hand. “I gave an order, not to burn anything that doesn’t need to be burnt. So Misaki can go save his friend.”

“I-I’m off, then.” Yata spread his wings and leaped into the air without another word, arrowing straight for the pool. His wings flattened as he rose higher into the air, clearing the line of smoke and mist, and the pool below was murky and clouded. But even so Yata could just make it out – a wavering image of a pure white moon, deep within the water.

_Fushimi…_ Yata swallowed, glanced back once, and then down again at the pool. _You better be grateful for this, you asshole!_

Yata drew his wings up close to his body and dived straight down into the water.

“ _What are you doing, little monkey?”_

_The words burned in his ears and his body tensed as he looked up from where he’d been drawing a sign in the dirt with a stick. A man stared down, teeth bared in a smile, white and sharp, and it made his entire body shake all the way from his ears to…_

_(Not_ mine, _Yata realized, because it wasn’t. He was looking at things from Fushimi’s eyes, listening to Fushimi’s thoughts echoing in his own ears — his body was nothing but a thought, limbs he couldn’t feel, wings that were like a sketch of a thing that once existed along the back that wasn't there, he couldn’t ruffle his feathers or speak or_ breathe _—)_

_(But he didn’t need to, because he wasn’t drowning. There was a moon shining just out of reach, and all that Yata was had been enveloped by the echoes of Fushimi’s memory.)_

“ _I wasn’t doing anything.” The voice was dull and sullen, exactly Fushimi’s usual tone, but there was a noticeable tension along his shoulders, Yata could feel it, and his — Fushimi’s — feet shifted slightly, the smallest hint of nervousness. The man in front of him —_ Niki, _the memory whispered, like the smooth hiss of a snake — smiled wider._

“ _Do want to play a game?” Niki clenched a fist and Fushimi gave the smallest yelp, involuntary, and Yata could feel the rush of irritation swelling in on him from all sides at the slip. There was a burst of pain and Fushimi’s hands and arms seemed to move of their own accord, wiping out the sign easily._

“ _Go away!” It was like the bark of a desperate kit abandoned in the snow, and Niki laughed._

“ _All right, all right, we’ll play!” Niki opened his hands, and small floating fires appeared there. “Let’s see if you can outrun these. All right, (—)?”_

_(It was like a sudden buzzing in Yata’s ears, something that had wiped out the name that had been spoken from even Fushimi's own mind, from his own memories.)_

_Fushimi’s whole body jerked up at the sound of it, eyes wide, breath catching not of his own accord, and Niki laughed._

“ _I’ll give you a head start. What do you say?”_

_Something like terror welled up in his throat, terror and hatred and a bone deep chill like Yata had never felt before, and Fushimi ran._

_The fires followed, and burned marks deep in his skin that didn’t disappear for weeks. Niki laughed._

Then Yata was himself again for just a moment, water washing over him and he could almost see his own hands outstretched in front of him before Fushimi's memories swallowed him up again.

_He was ill, shivering on top of the cold offering stone. Someone had left plants there — herbs, Yata thought for a second, before Fushimi’s memories corrected him with poison ivy leaves and hemlock — and his head was spinning._

_Figures moved around him, in and out of the shadows. Yata and Fushimi could both hear them, dimly, though only Yata could really make out the words._

“ _That’s_ his _child.”_

“ _Don’t touch him.”_

“ _We should have known better than to let them stay here. That kind brings only bad luck and tragedy.”_

“ _Where is he? He’ll come back as long as the child’s here. They aren't our tribe, we can't allow them to stay.”_

“ _We should have cast him out long ago, the moment we learned what he really was.”_

“ _You do that. I’ll watch. That one is too strong.”_

“ _Has always been too strong. Even the child…”_

“ _The child has your blood, doesn’t it?” This last directed to a woman, with cold eyes and sharp claws, and she turned away without even looking at the figure on the stone._

“ _Not mine.” Her voice was colder than the rock Fushimi lay on. “Even I couldn't break that illusion, that's all. Look at his color, his blood is all one with_ that man _. No part of him is mine.”_

_Midnight, and Fushimi managed enough strength to crawl to the woods and vomit. Something tugged on him, pulling him back like a dog on a leash, and Niki was there reflected in the moon, watching._

“ _You’re no fun today, monkey. Hey, (—) aren’t you angry? They left you to die. Only Daddy came back for you. Daddy will always come back for you.”_

_Niki leaned in, whispered in Fushimi’s ear._

“ _Go warm things up for them.”_

_Something painful again, a sharp pull like a noose around his neck, and Fushimi stood._

_A rush of images ran together, fingers dancing with flames, the sound of screams and a shrine bathed red and orange by fire, until finally there was only Fushimi standing there, alone._

_Alone except for Niki, who stood beside him and smiled._

“ _Don’t worry. Papa will be with you forever. Isn’t that nice?”_

Yata felt himself flailing a little under the water, lost for a moment, body tumbling helplessly down and he had the briefest glimpse of something white and shining before he was dragged back under into Fushimi’s memories.

_Everything broke. Any toy he found, left for him in pieces. Any friend he made, chased away with fire and illusions and monsters set loose._

_Fushimi wandered alone along the forest path, feet bare. Niki wasn’t around, but that didn’t mean anything. He would be there eventually. He always was, and there was no escaping that._

_Something small and glowing caught his attention and Fushimi knelt down. There along the side of the path was a tiny glowing blue stone set in a bracelet. It had likely been left behind after the last one of Niki’s fires — another tribe had taken shelter in the old shrine again, and had stayed there for over a month before Niki chased them off laughing. A couple of them had smiled at him when they’d spotted him hiding in the trees, not realizing that just by Fushimi seeing them their fate had been sealed._

_He reached down and picked up the bracelet, staring at the glowing stone. It felt cool against his skin, and the light was a little soothing._

_Niki would break it, of course, so there was no point in getting attached to even something as small as this._

_Even so, Fushimi slipped it into his pocket anyway._

_(_ But that’s — _Yata recognized the bracelet, hands he couldn’t see but still knew were there moving on instinct to touch his invisible wrist, the place where that bracelet had been for years until he’d given it to Fushimi. But the bracelet itself had been given to him by —)_

_(By —)_

_(By—)_

Yata felt water entering his lungs and his body was heavy like a stone, pulled down further and further, and he could see the bottom of the pool at last — a great dark plain dotted with destroyed statutes and lit by a single pale moon. His feet hit the lakebed and dust billowed up around him, and made shapes like letters that floated away from Yata’s outstretched hands.

“ _I’m — ! I’m six years old.” A warm laugh, a warm smile. “Do you live in a bush?”_

_(The memory was dim and faded over, stretched thin like animal hide over a rock, and Yata felt it bubbling between his own  fingertips, just out of reach.)_

“ _But…isn’t that lonely?”_

_[It’s not.] The words echoed, Fushimi’s thoughts filling the entire space of the world. [I’m not lonely. I’m fine on my own. I’ve always been fine on my own.]_

“ _The most amazing guy I’ve ever met.”_

_[Not that amazing.] Heavy thoughts, a millstone dragging him down.  [I’m not. I can’t even hold onto —]_

“ _I can’t leave you by yourself!”_

_[Why not?] True confusion, so strong Yata could feel it bubbling in his veins like blood. [Everyone else has. Everyone always does.]_

“ _But…aren’t we friends?”_

_[I don’t have any friends.] Desperate now, as if Fushimi himself didn’t even believe those words._

  


“ _If there’s a bad person after you I’ll rescue you! I’ll take you super far away and he won’t ever find you!”_

_[You can’t.] But there was a sensation building up in Fushimi’s throat, hope and loneliness and_ longing, _the desire to believe those words were true. Words no one had ever said before, not to him. No one ever came back for him except_ that guy. _But bright eyes were shining down on him, a smile and a promise, and Fushimi took the bracelet from his wrist and held it out._

_A flutter of wings, and Fushimi looked down at the small red feather left lying behind._

“W-wait, that’s—” Yata spoke without meaning to and water immediately filled his mouth, suffocating and cold and the world around him had gone bright bright white, the pale moon swallowing up everything around him.

“ _What did you find, little monkey?” Niki, smiling down at him, and Fushimi remained perfectly still._

“ _Nothing.”_

“ _You were gone so long, and Papa couldn’t find you. The sarugami all killed each other before you could play with them.”_

“ _I wasn’t doing anything. You know I wasn’t, or you would have made me come and play, right?” Almost a challenge, and instead of being angry Niki laughed._

“ _That’s right, (—).” He raised a hand and Fushimi’s body jerked as if held by an invisible leash. “Hey, monkey, where’s that bracelet you’ve been hiding?”_

“ _I lost it in the water.” He kept his voice flat, and Niki laughed._

“ _Is that so? My poor monkey lost his prized possession in the water. Want to go look for it? I found an onamazu the other day and let it loose in the pool, you two can play!”_

_Niki laughed and Fushimi kept his head down, following obediently as Niki began to ascend the temple steps._

_Behind them, hidden under an offering stone, was a small blood-stained handkerchief and a single red feather._

It wasn’t like drowning. Yata was still falling now, but falling up — not through water but through something else, dust coalescing around him still in characters that flew by too fast for him to hold onto, and there was a word he couldn’t read carved into the surface of the moon. 

_[I have to leave.] Fushimi was digging beneath a rock, desperate. His hands were red, and in the distance Yata could hear an odd sound that reminded him of the time he’d spotted a mountain beast eating a goat while searching a mountaintop. There was the vague feeling lingering in Fushimi’s memories that was almost like guilt and almost like relief. [The nue will eat me next if I don’t get out of here.]_

_Niki had thought he could control it. Another one of his tricks, dragging something onto the island that didn’t belong there. But it had slipped out of his grasp this time — the_ wrong name, _he could almost laugh — and there was nothing left of that man now except memories that Fushimi was all too ready to forget._

_[There.] He moved the stone aside and it was still where he had left it, his treasure — the handkerchief and the feather, both old and dirtied but still there._

_[I’ll find him.]_

_[He said he would come back.]_

_[Together, we can—]_

_He was running up the hill as fast as he could go, clutching his treasures to his chest. If he used the feather and the name, and called — surely that person would answer. That person who had held out a hand to him, who had smiled at him, who had burned brighter than anyone Fushimi had ever seen. He only needed to call, and finally he’d be able to leave._

_The moon above was growing larger the higher he walked up the hill, and the torii gate seemed small beneath it. He didn’t notice, white hands on red cloth._

_[I don’t need anyone else. As long as it’s us two together—]_

_The moon began to laugh._

_Fushimi stopped, stumbled, cutting his knees on the stones. The handkerchief in his hands writhed, turning pitch black as it slipped from his grasp and moved like a snake along the grass and stones, growing larger and longer, a shadow stretching beneath the moon that was too too large and the feather fell to the ground—_

_Fushimi cursed, fingers digging into his palm, and the rest of the world was drowned out by familiar laughter._

_[A trick — I should have expected, I’m such an idiot,_ of course he knew— _]_

_Everything seemed to be happening too quickly, so quickly that Yata could barely catch the pieces of memory that were glowing bright around him. Niki’s shadow, hands outstretched and laughing, still laughing — and then the grass beneath Fushimi’s feet began to glow and Fushimi whirled, something large on the horizon behind him backed by storm clouds — the shrine shook and crumbled, stones crashing into each other, statues falling to pieces into the crystal pool that had gone deep red like blood — and there were words written on the moon, words that slipped through Fushimi’s fingers as they were torn away —_ taken away, _from everyone, his own mind gone blank with the name he hated so much and now couldn’t recall and his fingers were changing, skin peeling back to reveal white bone and behind him the nue opened its mouth wide—_

And all in a rush, Yata _remembered._

“ _I’m Yata Misaki! I’m six years old.”_

Alone in a forest, lost. Blue eyes peering out of the bushes.

“ _Yeah, you don’t have wings! But I bet I could carry you!”_

A small sullen face that looked like it never smiled, like it didn’t know what smiling was.

“ _Don’t worry about it. Just…don’t give your name to anyone here but me, all right?”_

And hadn’t he been warned, then? The only protection someone like Fushimi could offer: _“Don’t give your name to anyone here but me.”_

“ _I can’t leave you by yourself!”_

He hadn’t wanted to. It was rushing in on him from all sides now, memory after memory, his own feelings and Fushimi’s crashing together so hard it was almost painful, and in front of his eyes there was nothing but a sea of stars. He’d always planned to come back eventually. To see this person again. His first real friend.

“ _If there’s a bad person after you I’ll rescue you! I’ll take you super far away and he won’t ever find you!”_

A promise. He could feel Fushimi’s emotions again, a surge of longing and hope and something so like _pain_ it made his eyes water. All this time, Fushimi had been waiting on him to come back, and Yata had forgotten it all.

He could see the words again, the characters of Fushimi’s name slipping between pale fingers and suddenly Yata’s own hands were reaching too, grasping helplessly for the memories that had been torn away from even his own mind, swallowed up by the moon and the water — the final curse that had taken Fushimi’s name and erased it from everywhere, everyone, that had taken away those precious memories so swiftly and silently that Yata hadn’t even realized what had been stolen from him until now.

Yata’s head broke open the water’s surface and he gasped, dragging himself onto the shore, and looked around.

He was still on the island and yet he wasn’t. The entire sky was pitch black, not even a single star to be seen. The pool was glowing softly, the reflection of a red moon and a bright sun side by side in the water. The grass beneath Yata’s feet was cool and damp and sludge gray. The forest in the distance was a mass of black ghosts, branches outstretched like claws, and the torii gate loomed large above his head, stretching up into infinity beyond the atmosphere.

On the grass beneath the gate was a small boy of about six, with sad blue eyes and a thin frame, holding a temari ball that glowed softly with moonlight, embroidered with characters that Yata couldn’t make out. The threads seemed to have been smudged somehow, and there were sharp needles poking out from various places, piercing the child’s hands so that blood dripped down. Despite that the child didn’t cry, only stared at Yata with those too-familiar eyes.

“Fushimi.” Yata took a step towards him, and the child Fushimi stepped back. He looked just the way he had in Yata's memories, untouched by the curse of his father and the nue, not a mere human any longer. “Hey, it’s all right. I’m here now, okay? Sorry it took so long.”

“Go away.” The words were hollow, echoing in the unnatural stillness of their surroundings. 

“I can’t.” Yata shook his head. “You’re the kinda guy I can’t leave alone, you know? We’re gonna go back together.”

“Can’t go back.” Fushimi’s eyes were dark, and Yata could see the reflections of the stars whirling inside them. “Can’t go forward. I have to stay here.”

“That’s wrong,” Yata said, forceful. “You can’t stay in one spot forever. It’s time to move forward.”

“I’m lost,” Fushimi said, and a cold wind blew past. The torii gate seemed to glow in the darkness and beyond it there was no longer forest but something else — a great dark silhouette that swallowed up everything in its wake, and a pair of glowing red eyes. The shadow of the nue growled softly, and Fushimi took a step back towards it.

“That’s not the way.” Yata reached for his arm and Fushimi stepped back, further under the gate, keeping his distance. The temari moon in his hands glowed softly, and the threads shifted and writhed like snakes.

“It’s the only way out.” Empty words, empty eyes, empty sky above. Fushimi’s body seemed somehow weary suddenly, like a child of famine staring at the desert around him.

“It’s not. Let me show you.” Yata took a careful step forward, and Fushimi took another step back.

“He’ll eat you. That guy…everything gets destroyed. Everything that’s mine, he takes and twists until it breaks. Because he named me, so my name belongs to him. I belong to him, forever.”

“He’s not here anymore,” Yata said. “I saw your memories. That guy’s dead. This is just a trick he left behind.”

“Even if he’s not here, I’m still his. There’s no way out for me.” Hands tightening over the moon, and more blood dripped down.

“Fushimi…” And the name sounded wrong somehow now, as if it wasn’t the one Yata should be calling. He found his eyes drawn to the moon again, to the twisted threads moving steadily beneath its surface, Fushimi’s blood staining it red. The stains faded after only a moment, swallowed up by the threads, and the moon pulsed with an eerie light. 

“ _He…has something that’s mine. I can’t leave without it.”_

Something was wrong.

It didn’t look right. Fushimi there, small and scared with blood on his hands and the moon with its hundreds upon hundreds of moving threads. The water beside him rippled, and Yata looked into Fushimi’s eyes again. Reflected in them he could just see it — twin moons, shining. Yata found himself reaching into his pocket and wrapping his fingers around the item he found there.

Small blue stones, still glowing with faint light.

“ _And if it’s you and me we can do anything!”_

And then he was small again, a tengu just growing into his wings, six years old and still a bit shorter than the boy standing in front of him. Yata held out his palm, showing Fushimi the stones shining bright, the remains of the treasure he had held on to all this time even though the reason why had been stolen from him.

“If you’re lost it’s best to stay with someone else, right?” Yata grinned. “This time, I’ll show you the way!”

Fushimi’s eyes widened, breath catching, and another gust of wind blew by, so strong that it nearly blew the moon from out of Fushimi’s grip. The beast in the darkness behind him growled again, a distant rumble of thunder, and somewhere far far away was the faintest sound of mocking laughter. Fushimi’s ears twitched, body stiffening, but Yata remained there firm, wings braced against the wind, and hand outstretched.

“Let me take you home, okay?”

The wind rose around them, an angry howl, tearing at both of their clothes, but Yata didn’t move. Despite the gale the stones in his palm didn’t shift so much as an inch.

“Misaki.” The word tore itself from Fushimi’s throat like a cry and suddenly he crossed the space between them, one hand reaching for Yata’s as the other let go of the moon — which turned dark red as it hit the ground, now nothing more than a frayed bloody handkerchief and it didn’t matter because that wasn’t what Yata had been looking for, wasn’t what he’d come here for at all, and Yata wrapped his arms around Fushimi and held him close as the world was swallowed up by a blinding white light.

And then he was standing there in front of the now clear pool which no longer reflected anything but the exact sky above, the sun still bright and the sky cloudless and blue. Yata opened his hands and a sprinkling of stardust fell from his fingers, scattering into the wind. Even so, his hands shone with a soft blue light.

“Sorry I took so long, Saruhiko.”

He took a step forward and then another, half running and half flying as he rushed down the hill where Fushimi was penned in at the very edge of the forest, the rest of Yata’s flock surrounding him. He saw Mikoto look up as he came close, eyes darting first to Yata and then to Anna still standing back at the top of the hill below the torii gate. He gave a nod of his head and suddenly the flock scattered, feathers raining down, and then it was just Yata, face to face with the nue.

Fushimi gave a low growl, that lonely keen of a bird again, and this time it made Yata’s heart ache just a little as he took a step closer, hands spread wide.

“Hey. You were here a long time, huh? You should’ve just said something.”

Clouds were gathering around him, obscuring the landscape and everything else around them, until it was just Yata and Fushimi, face to face. He could sense it in the back of his mind, a soft sound like the ringing of a bell: Anna’s presence, reminding him that she was there. If he called for help she would have Mikoto and the others by his side in an instant, to help fight off the nue if need be.

Yata smiled a little ruefully, another step forward. It was weird, wasn’t it…all this time he’d been worried, that there was nothing to him but what his fists and his strength could do. But here he was, face to face with a monster, and he had no intention of fighting.

“I said I’d be back for you. Saruhiko.” The nue seemed to pause at the sound of the name, the red eyes dimming just a little. Yata took another step forward. “I know it kinda took me a while. You were here all this time, by yourself, waiting…but I’m here. That guy didn’t destroy us. We’re friends, right? The first friend I ever had. You don’t forget people like that.”

He was nearly within arm’s reach of the nue. Fushimi growled again, not the bird call but something low and guttural, like a wounded beast. Even so, Yata kept advancing, arms opened wide and palms flat.

“You’re the kind of guy who never says anything honestly, huh?” Yata smiled. “You could’ve just _asked_ for help, you dummy. You didn’t have to chase me away. Nothing here is strong enough to break us. Even—even if I forgot…I’m back now. So don’t you dare disappear on me this time, you stupid idiot.”

Fushimi was backing up this time, closer and closer to the forest edge, but Yata didn’t stop approaching. He held out a hand, and he could almost see small letters dancing on his palm, tiny flecks of stardust glowing in the haze of the clouds.

“Come on, Saruhiko. Come back to me. We got a lot to talk about.”

The nue’s fur bristled like a frightened animal and suddenly it ran at him, mouth open, eyes burning, claws silver-bright even in the darkness.

Still, Yata stood his ground.

The characters in his palm suddenly began to grow brighter and brighter, so much that Yata had to throw up his other arm to cover his eyes, and he heard a sound like thunder in his ears—

—the sound of something unraveling, shattering, the cry of a bird and then—

—that hint of mocking laughter again, slowly, slowly, fading away.

When Yata opened his eyes again he was on the ground, having fallen to his knees without even realizing it. His palm was empty and the clouds had burned off, leaving him sitting alone in front of the forest that was suddenly growing green and verdant in front of him. 

Something shifted in his lap, and Yata looked down.

“Saru…hiko…?”

“I didn’t say you could use my first name, _Misaki.”_ Fushimi seemed unsteady on his legs as he stood, gray fur tinted with starlight as he shook himself off. Familiar blue eyes stared back at him and Yata couldn’t help but grin at the thin fox standing in front of him.

“You gave it to me, didn’t you?” Yata laughed. “If you didn’t want me to use it you shouldn’t have said anything. I mean…it was dangerous, wasn’t it?”

“As if an idiot like you could do anything even with my entire name.” Fushimi shook again and there was a small fall of stars as his body shifted, no longer a fox but the humanoid form Yata was familiar with — but this time there were black-tipped pointed ears on his head, and four tails waving behind him.

“You got more,” Yata said, looking at him. “You only had three tails last time.”

“Of course, moron, just because I was sleeping doesn’t mean I couldn’t age,” Fushimi snorted. “It took you long enough to get back here, Misaki.”

“Yeah, I know.” Yata couldn’t stop the fond smile crossing his face. “Sorry I made you wait, Saruhiko.”

“Tch.” Fushimi clicked his tongue as if annoyed but Yata thought he could see the faintest hint of red on his cheeks.

“Misaki!” Anna’s voice made him turn, waving his hands as he saw her and the rest of the flock flying down towards him. She took hold of his wrist as she landed, looking him over for injuries. Yata noticed that Fushimi seemed to tense a bit as the flock surrounded them and Yata moved a little closer to him.

“It’s all right Anna, I’m okay,” Yata assured her. “It takes more than a guy like this to take me down.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, crossing his arms, and Yata gave him a playful nudge in the ribs.

“Oh? So this is your Fushimi-kun.” Yata looked up and scowled as Munakata approached them, also back in his humanoid form with all nine tails displayed proudly behind him. He was looking at Fushimi with a keen-eyed expression that made Yata suddenly want to hold Fushimi even closer, just to make sure this bastard knew who Fushimi belonged to. For his part Fushimi was watching Munakata warily, clearly confused but on his guard. “A nogitsune _._ It’s been some time since I have met with one of your tribe.”

“Tch.” Fushimi clicked his tongue, tails waving, and he seemed to be moving a step closer to Yata without even quite realizing it. “Having a nogitsune in a fox tribe is bad luck, isn't it?”

“Only to those who believe such things.” Munakata's smile was thoughtful and interested, and Yata scowled at him, hand reaching for Fushimi's.

“H-hey, you haven’t seen the sun in a while, right? I mean, as you.” Yata smiled brightly at Fushimi, who immediately turned his gaze from Munakata back to Yata, ears swiveling with the movement. “Come on, I bet we can get a good view from the top of the hill.”

He tugged on Fushimi’s wrist and even though Fushimi clicked his tongue again he stepped forward anyway, eyes only on Yata, and there was something soft in his expression that made Yata's face feel warm.

The sun shone brightly down on them, and Fushimi’s hand closed tightly over Yata’s.


End file.
